The Seven Soldiers of Victory
by Mikel Midnight
Summary: Spun uff from FauxDC's "Dangerous Toys" crossover, seven legacies of the original team band together to protect Great Britain: The Bowman, Frankenstein, The Scarlet Hawk, The Shining Knight, The Spider (Fleetway), The Knight & The Squire
1. Nuclear Knights of the Septagram Table

She had traveled from a past so ancient that even its pale echoes had become legends, into a present which had forced her to slay the twisted form of her dearest love before defeating her most dire foe. Finally, she had come to accept her place, until once again things changed. The land she found herself in was teasingly familiar, yet it had all the characteristics of the futuristic New World to which she had become accustomed.

Lady Ystina, the Shining Knight, rode her winged steed Vanguard over the skies of Great Britain. She became filled with a rage, which part of her knew was not her own, and set to siege.

* * *

He had escaped prison after prison, and the last one had been the most challenging of all. It had taken him years until all his pieces had been in place, and finally with the help of the young man known as Faceache he had managed to free himself. He knew the chaos that would ensue as all those science heroes and science villains that had been hidden away, now ventured once more into the world. He would revel in that chaos, and he knew that he would come out on top. And then reality shifted briefly like the sensation of superimposing one photographic image atop another.

The Spider perceived deep in his bones that something was different. The taste of the air, the colours on the streets, all just slightly varied. Then he saw a woman in gold, riding in the air atop a brilliantly white winged horse, and the master manipulator felt himself manipulated as his arm drew forth to leash her and draw her down.

* * *

It was a future so distant he was no longer sure it was a future. A future so distant that it seemed to fold back on itself and on its own past. His mind had been enslaved and his perceptions dulled.

But in the centuries of his existence, he had escaped certain death and destruction countless times, and he found it within himself to resist the magicks which bound him and to find his way back to the era he had departed from.

He saw a man and a woman engaged in battle which neither seemed to understand, and for a reason beyond his ken, he joined them.

Once, he had simply been called monster, but he had more recently taken on the name of the man who had created him: Frankenstein.

* * *

SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY #1: The Nuclear Knights of the Septagram Table

London, 1941: beneath the watchful eye of the moon, the Blackhawks stood in front of a rooftop skylight, peering beneath them at the old man in his antiquated clothing. "That's Dr. Nebogipfel?" Baker enquired. The underworld scientist was a small-bodied, sallow faced little man. His lank black hair hung unkempt before his grey eyes which gazed forth from under his phenomenally wide and high forehead. His henchmen appeared stolid, wearing the types of clothes commonly seen on the lower elements of the British criminal classes.

Lt. Theodore R. Gaynor nodded, his eyes also taking in their teammates. "I radioed Blackhawk for his orders. The four of us will spearhead the attack; the others are on their way and will follow us down."

"I assume Blackhawk wants him captured alive," Zeg said pensively. "The weapons he's developing for Britain's criminal element could be handed over to the government ... or taken back to the Island."

"Quite," Gaynor agreed, and then slammed the butt of his pistol through the skylight glass. The quartet crashed through, their scream of HAWK-AAA echoing through the room.

Curses filled the room, but the henchmen, while outnumbering the Blackhawks nearly two to one, did not have the numbers necessary to defeat the black knights. In the midst of the battle, Baker saw Nebogipfel reach for a glass canister off his laboratory table, quickly backing away towards the saddle-shaped seat of an odd machine in the corner of the room. The scientist tossed the canister into the center of the room, where it shattered on impact, the chemical explosion releasing a noxious gas with a ka-floosh. Prepared, Baker held his breath, covering the lower half of his face as he staggered towards the other man, attempting to tackle him off the machine. But his opponent had already activated its control dial, and Baker saw their surroundings disappear into a blur of rainbow-like colours.

"I don't have enough blood on my hands? You just had to interfere?" Nebogipfel kicked away at Baker, who struggled against him. While much stronger than the other man, his exposure to the fumes had dulled his senses, and he found the shifting surroundings disorienting while his opponent seemed accustomed to them. The scientist pulled back quickly on the lever, and the rainbow effect stopped; he then took advantage of Baker's surprise to finally eject him, and before the man could once again attempt to capture him the machine disappeared once more.

Baker cursed at his ill luck, and looked around at his surroundings. While recognisably the same room he had entered earlier, it was completely empty. The lab equipment was gone, as were his teammates and Nebogipfel's henchmen. Everything was covered with dust. The windows were boarded over. He looked up; the skylight had been repaired. What was going on?

From outside, he heard the familiar sound of a police siren. He reached for the boards, tearing them away from one of the outside windows, and peered through the cracked glass.

He witnessed a sextet of colourfully garbed figures, all engaged in an inexplicable battle with each other. He thought he recognised one who appeared to be the Shining Knight, given his gleaming gold armour and white winged horse. There was a second man also clad in armour of battlefield grey, a young woman in a colorful medieval garment, a masked man in a red hood with a bow and arrow, an older man clad in what seemed to be black tights with a curious piece of equipment strapped to his torso, and an immense man with green-tinted skin who resembled none other than Boris Karloff in his most famous role.

As confused as Baker was, he was first and foremost a warrior. He wrapped his jacket around his fist and shattered the remains of the window, then scrambled through onto the street. The Shining Knight was leashed by the man in the red hood and the man in black, struggling against the cords which bound his arms while his horse reared mid-air against its binds. Baker felt disinclined to brutalise an older man, despite his apparent strength, so he tackled the man in red, causing him to release his grip.

The Shining Knight soared free, while he and his opponent wrestled. Finally the masked man spoke. "That uniform ... you're one of the Blackhawks! What the bloody hell are you playing at?"

Baker paused, surprised. "I don't know who you are, but I know the Shining Knight, and if you're attacking him ..."

The man grunted. "I'm the Bowman ... the ace archer of Scotland Yard ... and whoever that woman up there is on the flying horse, she's a criminal, and definitely not the Shining Knight. Are the Blackhawks here? Or did you come alone for the sole purpose of aiding and abetting supervillains?"

"Woman?" Baker's head swam. "I've obviously misjudged. Let me help you up, sir."

The two men rose to their feet. "Those two," the Bowman said, pointing them out, "the Knight and the Squire, are with me. The other three seemed to appear out of nowhere, and are spending their time fighting with each other, vandalising things in downtown, and fighting with us. The big green bloke wrecked my Arrowcar. So whose side are you on?"

"I ... I don't know where the rest of my squadron is," Baker replied, "but the Blackhawks have always been on the side of right. Ian Holcolmb-Baker stands with you."

The Bowman donned his weaponry once more. "Watch out for the OAP," he said, pointing to the older man, "he's out for the others but he's not with us, and he'll attack you viciously if you approach him, and he's stronger than he looks." The gold woman's sword effortlessly sliced through the sides of buildings like butter, scattering bricks, and then the man in black attacked the monster. "Give a hand to my friends against the green bloke, I have to rein in that horse one way or the other."

Baker brandished his revolver once more, and approached the combatants. The Knight and Squire were holding the monster off with swords, while the man in black was bearing some peculiarly designed weapon of his own. Baker fired at the green man. The impact forced the monster to recoil, and the man in black fired some sort of steel web over him. But the monster responded only with rage, massive fists tearing through the web and knocking down his opponents. Baker felt a blur of red pain, and saw a large antique handgun drawn from a holster at his opponent's side and aimed towards his skull.

Mumbling an apology, the Bowman fired an arrow at the horse's flanks. He needn't have worried, as a swing from the gold woman's sword cleaved it in twain. Her face contorted in fury, she directed the animal to swoop towards him, her own sword swinging wildly.

The man in gray armour staggered to his feet, struggling to bring his own sword to bear against the green man once more, when the monster stopped, withdrawing his weapon. "A Blackhawk," he muttered, in an inhumanly deep voice. "The Knight and the Squire. You, I do not know of," he said to the older man. He cast his eyes to the glimmer of gold he'd seen in his peripheral vision. "YSTINA," he bellowed.

The woman seemed to respond to the sound of her name. At once her face calmed, and she looked around, confused, pulling on her steed's reins so that he flew by overhead as the Bowman ducked. She turned to face the source of the sound. "You called my name, monster? Are you the one who brought me to the Isles of Britain?"

The Knight scowled, sword still at the ready, Squire similarly armed and by his side. "Do you have a name then, yourself?"

"My apologies, Knight of the realm. I was not myself. I have taken the name Frankenstein, for obvious reasons. This fair warrior is Ystina, who has been called the Shining Knight." His intelligent eyes took in their surroundings. "It appears we have been the victim of some sort of hypnotism or mind control, as I am not partial to mindless rages, and have fought a long battle to free myself from just such control already. Allow us to make amends."

Squire glanced askew at her mentor. "I'd believe him, sir," she said. "There was some flux of information about him which was almost subliminal ... I didn't notice it when we were fighting ... but now that it's gone the change is very noticeable. Like the way he's acting, I mean."

The Spider assessed the other six carefully. The Knight was a capable fighter but there was an undercurrent of weakness about him; possible an addiction? His Squire showed less skill with the sword, but despite her deferential manner, had the more assertive personality. The Bowman was more experienced than they, and exuded strict professionalism. The woman was the most proficient with the sword, but he gathered her skills had been tested more in the tourney than in the battlefield; still she had some dark air of adolescent tragedy about her. The man who had been referred to as 'a Blackhawk' was the deadliest of all of them, clearly a professional soldier, yet there was something odd and old-fashioned about his body language; moreover he appeared disturbed and uneasy in his surroundings. Well, he thought to himself, I have fought alongside a Society of Heroes before; since apparently I have fallen among such again, perhaps I should use this opportunity to re-establish myself as a hero once more, rather than returning to my criminal roots as I'd been considering following my escape. "I call myself The Spider," he said. "I have been ... fighting crime for many years, albeit working underground. I'm not surprised if you haven't heard of me."

"My name's Baker," said the man in the black uniform. "Pardon me, Bowman, but you said you thought the Blackhawks might be on their way? I am a little lost here ... so you have a contact with him?"

The Bowman furrowed his brow, "With her, you mean?"

Baker paused. "Blackhawk. Janos Proshaka."

The Bowman glanced at the Knight and Squire uneasily. "The person who's been running the Blackhawks for years is Zinda Blake. Lady Blackhawk."

"A girl?" Baker sucked in air through his teeth. Where had Dr. Nebogipfel taken him? "I have plainly missed some things. I don't have a radio available to me. Can this Lady Blackhawk be contacted?"

"My plane can take you to Blackhawk Island easily enough if you can provide directions," the Knight said. "I'd be more than happy to give you a lift."

Years ago, having conquered the criminal scene in London, the Spider crossed the ocean and easily done the same in the city of New York. But a new universe was a different matter. None of his contacts would know him, if they existed at all, and there may be other, subtler differences he was not aware of immediately. He needed the company of these others, for now, to act as his guides. "There has obviously been some local phenomenon which has displaced many of us," he observed. "I propose we operate together, for now, until the source of this displacement makes itself known. Is there room in your aeroplane for all of us?"

Baker demurred. "I can't give away the location of the Island, it's ... "

The Spider looked at him intently. "You are a man out of time, and most of us are from different universes entirely. All we wish is to go home, and hopefully together we will find a way to do that. Your secret will be taken with us where it will do no harm."

Baker found the Spider's words and gaze mesmeric, and he felt unable to resist the man's suggestion. "I ... see your point ... "

* * *

The sleek aircraft descended on Blackhawk Island, the Shining Knight riding Vanguard alongside, the Spider with his jetpack alternately hitching a ride and flying under his own power. He missed the autonomy of his helicar, but he knew he would have time to build a new one in this new world.

As they dismounted onto the landing strip, Baker felt increasingly uneasy. The sleek jets which were parked around them bore little resemblance to the Grumman Skyrockets with which he was familiar. "The headquarters building is this way," he pointed out to the others.

"Let's go pay them a visit," the Knight said, preparing to lead the way. He felt that as 'Britain's Batman' he ought to take charge, and the visitors had remained largely quiet since their externally imposed rage seemed to have elapsed. The Bowman was a decade older, he knew, being a near contemporary of the original Knight whom he had squired under, his late father Percy Sheldrake; still, the man often deferred to him strategically.

"Something's wrong," Baker hissed. "Not just that so much has changed. I need to scout things out."

The Shining Knight drew her sword once more. "And we are to remain here, when danger is afoot?"

Baker looked over at her. Where did he belong now, on this oddly changed future Blackhawk Island with its unknown inhabitants, or with these misplaced costumed misfits and monsters? For all he knew the Blackhawks of this era had donned individualised colourful costumes and armed themselves with super-science. "No, you're not. I am going to head to the headquarter building ... that structure over there. The rest of you are free to explore and look for anything odd. Just keep in mind," he grinned, "the Blackhawks are possibly armed and not liable to take too fondly to intruders."

As Baker approached the square administrative building, he saw his anticipations realised, as the entrance door had been torn off its hinges. He examined it carefully. There seemed to be signs of immense and powerful handprints. That confirmed in his mind that he'd been right to invite the allies to accompany him.

Silently, he entered the main command room. Thanks to his exposure to some of the Knight's equipment he recognised the communications and computer equipment; the structure of the interior itself appeared to not have been remodeled, for which he was grateful. Assuming any added security functions would have been disabled by the intruders, it meant he'd be able to explore quietly.

The most secure section was the brig; if there had been an escape, or if the Blackhawks of this decade were being held by an intruder, that would be the logical place. His intuition seemed correct when he saw the doorway which led to that underground section had been similarly torn asunder. Quiet as a hovering bird of prey, he slipped down the familiar stairwell.

The brig was as he remembered it, but instead of iron bars, the inhabitants seemed to be imprisoned behind vertical rays of coherent light. Two were young men, one red-haired and the other very pale blond; a third man was older, and could have been a relative of Hendrickson from his own team. All three wore midnight blue headbands and bodysuits, with gold gloves and boots, and had holsters on their belts. The fourth prisoner was a young woman, blonde and glamourous, and dressed in a uniform of black leather which resembled nothing other than a distaff version of the uniforms the Blackhawks of his own era wore; she was obviously the so-called 'Lady Blackhawk.'

In the hallway of the brig, evidently mid-gloat, was a bald man who appeared to be about the size of a midget, wearing a red and orange outfit and riding on the shoulders of an immense gorilla. Baker heard him ranting that it had taken him ten years to find the island, but now it's his, and their new home will be in a ray cell. He'll keep them alive as hostages. Baker knew he had to come up with a way to save them, but what could he do against 21st Century weaponry? He padded quietly back up the stairwell to discuss the situation with the others.

Baker returned to a scene of chaos. The Knight and the Squire were pitting their swords against the fangs and claws of a pair of jungle cats. The Bowman was backing away, aiming his arrows at an advancing crocodile. Frankenstein was caught in the web of a giant tarantula, whom the Spider was battling in an attempt to free him. Gauging from their size and ability to challenge the costumed types, the animals all appeared to be genetically enhanced. Baker cursed, drawing his handgun, and ran to join his besieged companions.

Strategizing en route, he directed himself towards an immense snake which was coiled around the Shining Knight. As she struggled to free her sword, the hovering Vanguard sounding almost hysterical with fear. Baker zigzagged towards them, shouting and waving his arms enough to attract the attention of the snake.

The creature lunged towards Baker faster than he anticipated, and he rolled to the ground. "Hell, bloody hell," he said as he felt the corner of the creature's muzzle strike a glancing blow to his arm and saw his revolver slide across the ground away from him.

He lunged towards it, and in his peripheral vision saw the shadow of the giant snake rearing before him. Vanguard swooped down, kicking at the animal with flashing hooves, and Baker lunged for his firearm. "Bull's eye," he muttered, firing at the reptile's right eye.

It recoiled in pain, and loosened its coils enough for the Shining Knight to free her sword arm. She slashed downward, slicing through the scales. Once, twice, and the immense head tumbled off, leaving the thrashing body behind. Covered in gore, she squirmed out from the tentacles. "I thank you for your help, Baker, though I assure you I am no helpless maiden and do not require chivalry."

Baker twitched his head. "Chivalry, hell. I need your sword. Come with me."

She followed him across the island to another structure, older than the administrative building, with peaked roofs. "Hopefully, they're still maintaining the

Blackhawk Museum behind the company barracks; it should contain what we need to deal with the criminal in charge of this menagerie." Moreover, he thought, I ought to be right at home there, being a museum piece myself.

She followed him though the comfortable-looking living quarters and into what appeared to be a souvenir room and armory. Baker recognised many of the antiquated machines as being ones from his own era, though there were others which were still more advanced than to what he was accustomed. His face broke into a grin as he found what he was looking for. "The Hawk-Sub!"

The pair rolled the craft out of the museum. "Thankfully," he told her as they launched it, "time has not destroyed the undersea cavern beneath Blackhawk Island." The craft floated through the dimly lit tunnel, Baker using his intimate knowledge of the island to place him. "There," he said. "We are right beneath holding cell 147. Think that sword of yours can carve up through it?"

She pursed her lips. "'tis not the same as the legendary shovel that King Arthur had possessed, but it will do the job." Following his directions, she began hacking her way through the floor of the ray cell.

There were shouts of surprise as the gold sword carved through the stone flooring. "Greetings from the court of Arthur," he heard the armoured woman say, and he could hear the wry grin in her voice. As she hoisted herself up through the floor, he followed suit.

The blonde woman spoke first, her expression showing her bemusement. "You certainly don't look like one of Mr. Freek's abominations. I can see by your outfit that you are a Blackhawk."

Baker grinned, "I see by your outfit you are a Blackhawk too."

The older man's eyes tracked between the two of them, like someone watching a tennis match. Finally, he said: "We see by our outfits that we are both Blackhawks." He turned to Ystina, "If you get an outfit, you can be a Blackhawk too." He started to laugh, the other five people in the room looking at him perplexedly.

The woman held out her hand, palm down. "Zinda Blake, Lady Blackhawk. I can't say I've had the pleasure."

He took her hand in his own and bowed his head slightly. "Ian Holcolmb-Baker, at your service."

She furrowed her brow. "I know that name. You're British. Baker? Any connection to the one who disappeared in 1941?"

He nodded. "The very same. I admit, I wondered what people thought had become of me. I seem to have become a ... displaced person. Allow me to introduce Ystina, the Shining Knight."

Zinda returned the nod in greeting, "It seems time displacement is an occupational hazard in our profession; we'll have to have a long talk about it, when this is all over." She extended a gesture to take in her teammates. "The current squadron of Blackhawks ... Ra'Gan, Tor, and Xeo. You remember Hendrickson, I'm sure; the excessively self-amused Xeo is his son."

"Mr. Freek is the name of that gloating bald midget?"

"He's not really a midget," Ra'Gan shrugged, "more of a mad scientist rendered little by an unfortunate accident ... not that it matters. I'm impressed by your rescue plan, Baker, but we'll need to arm ourselves in order to regain control of the island."

"Regain control?" A voice from outside the cell interrupted the conversation. Mr. Freek had returned, and sat aiming an oddly-designed hand weapon at the prisoners. "It's taken me too long to achieve what I have today; a blast from my D-Gun will disintegrate anyone who tries to make a move without my express permission." He shouted suddenly in pain as a concussive explosion knocked the weapon from his hand.

Frankenstein appeared in the hallway, bearing a large antique pistol, "A blast from my steam-gun will put paid to trespassers," he growled.

Mr. Freek held his damaged hand. "What monster is this? Destroy him, Bruto!"

The Blackhawks watched the spectacle before them, too astounded to even complete their escape as the giant gorilla roared into action, going toe-to-toe with his master's opponent, the tiny mad scientist still hanging on him. The two immense monsters of science, created more than a century apart, struggled with each other, the sounds of bestial roars and Teutonic curses filling the room, with the furious voice of Mr. Freek urging on his champion.

Finally, tradition overcame novelty as Frankenstein's powerful hands cut off the air through Bruto's throat, and the gorilla fell to the floor, burying his owner beneath him. He rose to his feet and approached the ray cell. "The release code is two zero six zero," Zinda Blake said.

As the beams faded, Baker enquired, "How did you escape the web?"

"It was the Spider's idea," Frankenstein replied. "We baited him with the crocodile that was bothering the Bowman, and Knight and Squire threw one of the jungle cats into the other."

"Clever," Zinda smiled, "I think I'd like to meet this man. And yourself, Baker? What are you going to do?"

He paused. "I don't know yet."

* * *

The dozen heroes gathered afterwards in the Island's mess hall, once the scientist and his creations had been secured.

"If what you say is true, I find myself displaced for the second time," Ystina said, "and without the friends I had made after I followed Queen Morgaine to this perplexing era."

The Spider nodded. "We've all lost friends, whether in this displacement or due to the natural course of time, which is why I propose we hang together, motley crew that we are. I know I am tired of fighting alone."

"It's better than hanging separately," Frankenstein agreed.

Zinda looked at Baker. "Have you made up your mind yet?"

"I stand with my fellow dp's," he said. "I know you suffered through the same time travel trick I have, Zinda, and I thank you for your offer, but after my family was killed in the Blitz I signed on to the Blackhawks to avenge their deaths against the Nazis. But time has seen to that."

Zinda looked amongst the assembled group, and then her features were illuminated by a sudden smile. "Knight, Bowman, do you have a place to host this party of yours?"

The Knight sighed, "I would have once. The Sheldrake fortune is mostly gone, at this point." The Bowman shook his head.

"I have an offer for all of you ... especially you, Baker. The Blackhawks own an abandoned headquarter in one of the Orkney islands northwest of Scotland. It's fairly well equipped with buildings and defenses, although not exactly up to date. I suggest your team operate out of the island, act as caretakers for the site, and Baker can function as liaison officer between the Blackhawks and ... whatever you choose to call yourselves."

"That's very generous, Zinda," said Baker.

"The famous Shining Knight of our own world was once a member of a team called the Seven Soldiers of Victory," Tor reflected, "and there are seven of you ... "

"I would be honored to follow in his footsteps," Ystina said as she fed a carrot to Vanguard.

"The Seven Soldiers of Victory it is, then," the Squire said cheerily.

"A toast then," said the Spider, raising his glass, "to all our separate pasts ... and our common future."


	2. The Clockwork Cagliostro

SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY #2: "The Clockwork Cagliostro"

Baker slipped the helmet over his head, and thumbed the controls for the atom powered aircraft he called the Hoverer. As the propeller whirled overhead, he pulled back on the steering column, and the vehicle ascended skyward. As Cyril Sheldrake, Beryl Hutchinson, Archer Dawe, the man who called himself Alfred Chinard, and the woman who had taken the name Ystina Aurelianus shielded their eyes against the sun, the brilliantly white winged steed Vanguard galloped down the runway and set off into the air in pursuit.

Baker looked behind him and grinned, and when Vanguard came near, he started to accelerate. The horse kept pace for minutes, but then began to lag behind. Vanguard performed a series of theatrical aerial loops and stunts as if to reassure himself of his capabilities, and then descended back to join the others, snorting indignantly.

Finally, the Hoverer returned to land, gently touching down after a vertical descent. Hutchinson led a round of applause as he dismounted easily, slipping his helmet off with a grin. "So what are you going to call yourself now," she said, "the Hovering Baker?"

"And rain currant buns down upon my enemies?" Baker laughed, "I don't think so. My mother's name was Scarlette Holcolmb, and I have no desire to cut ties with my former assignation. What do you think of 'The Scarlet Hawk?'"

Chinard narrowed his eyes. He had long suspected Baker's family resemblance to the Scarlet Hawk of his own world, and as the man had begun work on his own version of the Hoverer, those suspicions had become increasingly confirmed. "It does have a certain appropriateness to it," he conceded.

Dawe rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose 'The Bowman' doesn't win any awards for originality, though having inherited the first name of 'Archer' from my ancestor, perhaps I ought to have called myself 'The Archer' instead?"

"I admit I'm impressed with your design work," Sheldrake said. "I assumed it would take you years to catch up with your lost decades, but you've adjusted handily enough."

Baker shrugged. "I was an engineer before I signed on with the Blackhawks, and some of my designs were just waiting for the right sort of technology to make them possible. So don't be modest; you and the Spider did all the hard work in building this girl."

"Don't be modest yourself," Sheldrake said. "I would never have been inspired to design something like the Aviosub on my own, and now the Seven Soldiers can arrive just about anywhere in force."

"Yes," Aurelianus said, "if we want to travel under the ocean half the time to do so. It still feels unnatural to me, and it makes Vanguard nervous. I believe we shall continue to soar the skies under our own power."

"That's your privilege, Ystina," Sheldrake grinned, "but you'll only have yourself to blame if all we leave to you is the mopping-up. No shame, Vanguard is incredibly fast, but technology will always outpace him. Have you heard the song the Yanks sing, of the man they call John Henry?"

"No," she admitted, "can you regale us with the story?" Seeing the reaction on his face, she laughed and shook her head, "Pardon me, I forgot that in this era warriors are not expected to know the finer arts, preferring to leave it to those small flickering boxes to tell their tales rather than singing their own praises to their peers."

Hutchinson giggled, "I think you ought to go ahead, Cyril."

Sheldrake managed to look persecuted if not indignant. "I think what it is time for, is lunch."

"I agree," Dawe said, "I came here directly from the archery range and I'm famished. Lead the way, Knight."

As they walked, the older woman pulled the younger aside. "Beryl," Ystina whispered.

Beryl looked at her, surprised. "What's the matter, Ystina? You're not upset over what Cyril said, are you?"

Ystina shook her head. "That was but a warrior's gibe. It meant nothing, and I deserved it for quailing at the use of the ... Aviosub." She lowered her voice to a near whisper. "Do you trust this Spider?"

Beryl shrugged. "I've had no reason not to. Why?"

"Vanguard does not, and his instincts are better judges of a man's character than any of ours. He presents himself as the kindly uncle, but I believe he would manipulate us to his own ends."

"I will certainly keep my eyes open. Thanks for trusting me with this. All right, I have a question for you, then. You came from the same place he did ... is that the real Frankenstein? I mean ... from the book?"

"I have not read the book, nor did I ever fight alongside the man in the war against Morgaine. I have only his word for it that we were both linchpins in that battle. But I will ... keep my eyes open."

"Fair deal." Beryl grinned, and extended her hand. Ystina took it in a firm grasp.

"I do have another question for you," Ystina said as they passed through into the mess hall. To Beryl's enquiring glance, she continued, "Where did they ever find a chef's hat and apron so big?" Beryl laughed, as they witnessed Frankenstein so clad and exiting the kitchen, passing out huge chops of mutton and broiled root vegetables to the other members. "You are late," he said to the pair as they saw the others attempting to carve out edible-sized portions on their plates. "Your food will get cold. Now sit." After serving them with plates only slightly smaller than the mens', he took a large serving platter of raw vegetables out to Vanguard, who preferred eating under the open sky so long as the weather was good.

Later that evening, Beryl and Ystina sat in the former's living quarters, her fingers moving at blinding speed across her keyboard. After an hour, she sighed. "When we all met, the Spider said he'd been fighting crime for many years, albeit working underground, and that's why none of us have heard of him. But I've found no records of an Alfred Chinard, and no criminals captured by anyone using anything like the Spider's technology which have not been attributed to another superhero or vigilante. So he's either been working iway/i underground ... or lying."

"When we met, he'd been enchanted by the same spell as Frankenstein and I had," Ystina noted. "He probably comes from that other world, so like this one. Why would he conceal that fact? How would it benefit him?"

"None of us knew who he was. We don't do background checks on each other. It's, uh, information, and any information can be valuable. So the more any of us are misled about him, the more of an advantage he has to."

"Maybe he thought there would be another Spider? Both my own world and this one seem to have another Shining Knight, Sir Justin."

"And who would that other Spider be, then?"

" ... a criminal?"

"My thoughts exactly," Beryl nodded. "Let me look some more." She cracked her knuckles and went to typing once more. "No unsolved crimes of note. Hh, what had you said that other Shining Knight? Wait a minute." A few moments later, she said, "You've seen photos of your Sir Justin, yes?"

Ystina nodded, "Yes, of course, though I'd never met the man."

Beryl rotated the screen so that it was within the other woman's view. "Is this him?"

Ystina stared at the image. "Yes. It's difficult to say. I believe so. Who are those others, with him?"

"Those are our universe's version of the original Seven Soldiers of Victory. They were mainly Americans, aside from Sir Justin, but do you see that man with the bow and arrow?"

Ystina nodded again.

"He was an archer, much like our own Bowman. Except he called himself the Spider."

"That's most odd."

"Do you want to know what's odder yet?" Beryl asked. "He turned out to be a criminal and betrayed his team."

"I have seen history repeat itself too many times," Ystina said. "We must ensure it does not this time as well."

* * *

"You're looking reflective, Cyril."

Cyril Sheldrake looked back up at Archer Dawe as the latter entered the library. The shelves were sparsely populated, mainly consisting of left-behind books on military strategy and experimental technology dating back decades, and some items from the Sheldrake's family library which had been taken out of storage. "Archer," he said.

"I know the Batman is fond of lurking in the dark, but that's usually not your style. What's weighing on your shoulders?"

"I'm just thinking about how ... well ... how diverse we all are. Am I possibly going to be able to lead us into being an effective team?"

Archer sat down opposite him. "We've been together a few weeks, and aside from moving house, we've already defeated the Dealer, the Scorpion, and Blackbriar Thorn. I'd say that's a fairly good record. And once Baker has the rest of his 'Scarlet Hawk' equipment up and running, we ought to be even more effective."

"I know," Cyril sighed, "but the Club of Heroes had an equally stellar record, and despite their international membership, had more in common than our Seven Soldiers. And you know perfectly well how that team broke up into discord, and how my father was at the core of it."

"You're not Percival Sheldrake."

"You're right. I'm not half the hero he was."

"You're better."

"I think that's appreciated, but it's based more on our friendship than any ... objective assessment, Archer. I'm sorry, I'm poor company. Leave me to my soda water and dark thoughts. I'll see you later."

"You're not the only one with a famous family, remember. The Archer Dawe that I'm named for was self-educated in criminology and had a career that makes mine look like nothing." He rose to his feet, placing his hands on the back of Cyril's chair for a moment. He almost trembled. He so much wanted to touch the other man more than that, to take him in his arms and comfort him ... yet he dared not. "I'll be around," he said as he turned to stalk out of the room with its deepening shadows.

* * *

The Spider smiled and tilted his head in acknowledgement as he passed Baker in the hallway as they each passed en route to their separate rooms. As the two passed, he whispered, "L'Uomo Ragno." Baker stopped in his tracks as the Spider's implanted hypnotic code word took effect.

"This way," the Spider said, crooking his fingers, and Baker followed him to his quarters obediently.

The Spider took out an electronics textbook. "Tell me what you've overheard the others saying about me," he began. Slowly, he continued the process of moulding the man to his own needs: updating his scientific knowledge, dulling the emotions attached to his deceased family and friends as well as the horrors of war, weeding out any suspicions the man may have had about the Spider's own motivations and ensuring his ultimate alliegence to the Spider's personal agenda ... when he chooses to enact it, whenever that may be.

* * *

It was past midnight when the Aviosub departed the Orkney island northwest of Scotland, heading towards Edinburgh, with the Knight at its helm. The vehicle was flanked by the Shining Knight aboard Vanguard, the Scarlet Hawk aboard the Hoverer, and the Spider aboard his rebuilt helicar.

"Edinburgh Castle?" Squire asked. "it's just a museum piece now, ennit? Why would someone send an army of robots to seize it?"

"Just beware; robots can be tricky," Bowman said, "they're always full of surprises. I'm glad they summoned us before too many civilians got hurt."

The Knight shrugged, "I guess we'll find out when we get there."

"The castle is old," Frankenstein said, "far older than I am." He looked out the window at the Shining Knight. "Who knows what secrets may be buried beneath its walls?" Fierce as she was, she reminded him of the Bride at times; but that companion was a universe away, and he was a monster.

As the Aviosub approached the volcanic Castle Rock, the Knight slowed down to an easy descent. Facing up against sheer cliffs from north and south, the team divided with the Spider and the Bowman approaching from one side, the Scarlet Hawk, Knight & Squire approaching from the other, and with the Shining Knight and Frankenstein approaching up the steep ascent from the west.

The castle was well-guarded, by metallic soldiers whose designs were reminiscent of 18th century military uniforms. They fired at the approaching Soldiers, bullets ricocheting off their armour. They were met in kind by a barrage from an aerial squadron of miniaturized Spitfires under the Knight's control, and steel-tipped arrows from the Bowman.

"Squire, open the front gate so Frankenstein doesn't try to batter it down, then search for the hostages," the Knight shouted as he and the others dismounted from the Hoverer.

The Scarlet Hawk knelt down to briefly examine one of the robots crushed during the landing. "What sort of robots are these?" he said. "I don't even see any electrical parts ... they're all clockwork gears ... my god I think they were literally wound up by key. What sort of mind could construct something like that?"

"It's like a mad dream devised by Charles Babbage." The Knight glanced down, his sword readying as he prepared to hunt down another of the invaders. "That ought to clear our conscience about knocking them to bits. They look like they're made of tin."

As the Bowman departed from the helicar, the Spider slid into the shadows. There was little of obvious renumerative value in the castle fortress, so he first examined the War Museum. He came up with naught, so he re-entered the courtyard, evading the sounds of battle, and slid into Register House where were kept the state archives.

He came upon the rotund, grey-haired man in his antiquated clothes as the man rifled through the ancient papers. The man saw him and cursed, raising a blunderbuss which he fired at the intruder. The force of the impact knocked the Spider off his feet. As the man came to examine his conquest, he discovered that the Spider's exo-skeleton stood him in good stead, as the latter drew forth his web gun to entangle the man in sticky, steel strong strands.

"Well, well, well, what sort of fly has the Spider caught today?" He removed a ring from a finger on his right hand, which was engraved with his insignia, and began to dangle it before the man's eyes, reflecting light into it even as he began to speak in soothing, low tones, subsuming the man's will into a hypnotic state. "What is your name?"

The man stared unblinkingly. "Joseph Balsamo."

"Balsamo? Like Cagliostro? What were you looking for?"

"Cagliostro's ... my ancestor's ... secret files were held here ... or they were supposed to be ... I didn't have time to finish my search ... "

"Fascinating," the Spider said with a smile. "Tell me more about what those papers were supposed to be all about."

* * *

In the shadow realm of Perfidious Albion, where black stars hang in the heavens and where the shadows of men's thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, the Witch-Queen of Northumberland stared balefully into her scrying pool. "The machinist has failed me, as I'd suspected he would, despite his promises." She turned to the raven who was perched on her shoulder. "We must act more directly; take flight and speak of these developments to the King in Yellow, for the scalloped tatters of the King must hide Yhtill forever."

If it had been possible for the face of a raven to show terror, it would have then, but it nonetheless took flight and went to fulfill its duty.

* * *

NOTES: The Clockwork Cagliostro created and copyright by Kim Newman.


	3. The Pain of the Goat

The Bowman and the Scarlet Hawk, their eyes glowing ultraviolet purple, howled destructive chants as they battled their teammates with murderous intent. The Knight glanced askew at the Shining Knight, "Ystina, go after Señorita Scorpion ... just watch for that whip and knife of hers, we don't need you drugged and killcrazed, too."

At least their eyes don't clash with their headgear, Squire thought crazily to herself, as she ducked out of range of the steel-tipped arrow which hurtled through the air towards her.

Vanguard whinnied as he picked up speed, tracking the other woman's own mount along the hills near the Wales border. Frankenstein, the Spider, the Knight and Squire faced off against the seemingly possessed Soldiers.

Fortunately, madness dulled the pair's battle-hardened reflexes. The Knight's squadron of miniaturized Spitfires besieged the Bowman, while Frankenstein brought down the Hoverer with his massive hands. The Spider leaped over to where the Scarlet Hawk struggled to free himself, and injected him with the greenish-yellow serum which they'd hoped would counteract the Scorpion's hypnotic drugs, then repeated the process with the Bowman. He watched as both collapsed in place. "I hope that did the trick."

"Count Zegelloff's plan to use the Scorpion's daughter against us worked about as well as it did with the original, and this time I think we have enough evidence to take him down," the Knight said, "but having Señorita Scorpion in our grasp will help secure the case." He and the Squire mounted their motorcycles, and took off following the direction of the Shining Knight's pursuit.

They arrived as they saw the Shining Knight and Vanguard, circling aimlessly overhead a clearing in the woods. "Ystina? What happened?" Squire said as the other woman descended to join them.

"I don't know," the Shining Knight confessed. "I saw her ride around the hill and then not reappear. Vanguard and I have been searching for clues, but all we saw was a shadow."

The Knight hissed. "A shadow? What did it look like?"

"It was invisible to my eye, but it cast a shadow on the ground as it flew over; just such a shadow as might be cast by a yawl-built boat lying on the body of a large wheelbarrow."

"Just such a shadow ... I've seen that one before," he said as he meandered over to a gray cone set in the centre of the clearing.

The Squire looked at him, troubled by his expression. "Cyril? What's bothering you?"

"An unsolved case. Hrm. We need to gather the others, tend to our friends, and I will tell you all the story."

SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY #3: "The Pain of the Goat: A Tale of Times Past"

Cyril Sheldrake, the youth known as the Squire, had gathered together his closest allies in the headquarters which gave the team their name: the Eyrie, based in an abandoned observatory atop a high mountain midway between Metropolis and Gotham City.

"Thanks for coming when I needed you," he said. "The Knight's gone underground in his investigation of the Springheel'd Jack case, saying it's too dangerous, but I couldn't tackle this latest game on my own."

Dick Grayson's smile was partially obscured behind the mask he wore as Robin. "No thanks necessary, that's why we set this all up."

"I consider it fortunate I was visiting from India when the meeting was announced, so I was able to attend in a timely manner," agreed Rajah Rahbin.

Little Raven nodded, allowing the others to chitchat while he kept his own council up to now. "So what do you have for us?"

Bat-Girl peered at the Squire curiously. She knew she was just an amateur in this game compared to the boys, and while she had been frequently assertive to the point of brashness when she'd teamed up with Robin in the past, she was more cautious about appearing the fool in the midst of an international gathering.

"It all started off," the Squire said, "with an industrialist named Sir John Ryder. He's been the object of a series of thefts, which has been publically embarrassing in addition to the financial loss. The last piece was a small piece of curious gold-work ... a valuable gold coin on which is apparently engraved a yellow sign, that archeologists are calling the Pain of the Goat."

"The Pain of the Goat? That sounds cheery," Bat-Girl said.

"It's apparently just a squiggly three-armed symbol," the Squire continued, "it was later put up in an underworld auction by a crime lord named Travers, but then stolen again by a pair of his former agents. I don't exactly care about someone stealing from thieves, and Travers is on the sinister side, but his search for them is setting off a gang war, and lots of folks are getting hurt."

"That does sound serious," Robin agreed thoughtfully. "I'm glad you called us."

"Do you have profiles on the former agents?" Rajah Rahbin asked.

"Oh yes," Squire said. "One is Limehouse Larkin, a masked archer and explosives expert. The other is Doug Hutton, a thief who calls himself ... the British Bat."

Robin blinked, "The British Bat? That's a lot of nerve. We had enough trouble with bad guys stealing our names during the Bat-Hombre affair."

Bat-Girl grinned, "I think it's personal now."

Rajah Rahbin had a sudden mental image of Robin setting up a dart board with pictures of the British Bat and this Bat-Hombre, as well as who knows what other miscreants had chosen to pay tribute to the great crime-fighter in such a perverse manner. Maharaja Shundu had chosen his own name and identity modeled on the other boy's, though had always fought on the side of justice; he felt fortunate Robin had actually helped train him rather than responding with jealousy or protectiveness, and he always felt indebted to the lad because of that.

"So we have to track them down ourselves," Little Raven said. "Where do we start?"

"I was able to narrow the area down to some small villages set in the hills near the Wales border ... but I don't think I want to tackle them both on my own ... and if I could find them, there's a chance Travers may be able to as well, and ... "

Bat-Girl clapped her hands, "We get to go to Wales?"

"It won't be a holiday trip," Robin admonished her, "but yes, we get to go to Wales."

The next day, the law's teen legionnaires disembarked from one of Bruce Wayne's private jets, onto a hidden landing strip at the Sheldrake estate. As they gathered in the sitting room, the Squire passed out photographs of the two men, as well as folders containing their physical specifications and m.o.'s. "I special-ordered a fleet of scooters for us, so once we get to Dublin we ought to be able to fan out independently from there."

Bat-Girl grinned happily. She supposed the Squire would take offense if she told him how cute and rustic everything looked to her. And she couldn't wait to do a tour of Welsh villages even though it would mainly be on 'business' and not a pure pleasure trip.

Like a flock of birds of prey, the quintet etched an imaginary claw over the countryside, traveling from village to village. It was in Goatswood, an isolated town surrounded by woods to the east of the city of Brichester, that Little Raven located the pair. He considered that appropriate: descended as he was from the legendary Sioux warrior Xupakiglake Wicasa, who had often accompanied Saganowahna on their finest adventures, he sometimes resented the way his father and he invariably were treated as mere imitators of Batman and Robin, although when they had met the dynamic duo treated them with a notable lack of condescension. It was that attitude, along with the excitement crime-fighting brought to his life, which prevented his resentment from simmering over into constant anger. He radioed the others to tell them their tracker had done his work.

Doug Hutton would never have recognised Cyril Sheldrake on his own, much less Dick Grayson, but he had studied the careers and tactics of both of their mentors, and when he saw them in conjunction he realised the trap was about to be sprung. Not to be outdone by a group of children, he contacted his ally where they both roomed at the Central Hotel, and the two men clad themselves in blood-red uniforms, prepared to snare the hunters.

As the teens slowly gathered, it was only Grayson's sharp eye and their own lightning-swift reflexes which saved them from destruction, as Limehouse Larkin aimed an explosive arrow at them from a nearby rooftop. "Bogey incoming, eleven o'clock!" he shouted and the team scattered, leaving the fireburst to shatter the windows of the Station Cafe.

From above, Larkin spied on the narrow streets and close-set dull-red roofs of the town. He knew the children would be doing exactly what he would have done: donning their uniforms, preparing their weaponry. He cursed the boy who'd spied the glint of his arrow in the sunlight, and then again at himself for not taking surreptitious photographs of the gathering; he knew some of them must have wealthy adult mentors and there was a missed opportunity for blackmail ... or future revenge.

The British Bat drew his gun, firing a strong but near-invisible thread which he used to glide between buildings, and flew to the top of the 50' high metal pylon which rose from the center of the town square. The suction pads in his suit allowed him to comfortably scale the sheer walls of the pylon.

Larkin heard the sounds of a trio of grapplehooks landing on the rooftop behind him, and turned to see Robin, Bat-Girl, and Squire climbing up behind him; the last of them quickly donned his shield and mace while Bat-Girl seemed to take a moment to pull out a compact and check her makeup, though her eyes glittered at Larkin with mischevious calculation. For his part the British Bat peered down balefully on Rajah Rahbin and Little Raven, the former bearing his sling, the latter his own bow & arrow.

* * *

"Damn, I wish I'd been there," Beryl Hutchinson interrupted with a grin.

Cyril chuckled, "I'm sure you'd have fit right in ... though you were a little young at the time, if I recall."

"Children during playtime is all very amusing," Frankenstein scowled, "though I have yet to see the relevance to Señorita Scorpion."

"Any warrior has earned the right to sing the song of his victories," Ystina said. "I am sure the tale will come around in the end."

Alfred Chinard, fascinated as ever by comparisons between one of this world's population and a criminal of his own world named The Bat, kept his own silent council, but listened attentively.

"You're exactly right," Cyril continued. "We can skip over the fight between us ... needless to say we soon had them on the run in Larkin's landspeed, with us in pursuit on our 'cycles."

* * *

The quiet of the encircling forests was disrupted by the sound of motor vehicles as the membership of the Eyrie set off in pursuit of the fleeing criminal comrades. "Are you all right, Rajah?" Dick Grayson asked.

Rajah Rahbin nodded, though his driving was more erratic than the others. His left arm was clearly still causing him pain from the near miss by one of Limehouse Larkin's explosive arrows. "Just worry about our prey, don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

The British Bat leaned over, grabbing the steering wheel from Larkin who stood up suddenly, and let fly a quick series of arrows at their pursuers. The teenagers responded quickly, with batarangs and a matching arrow rising to block the onslaught, but not all of them were successful. They veered in a wide circumference, the resulting concussive force churning up turf in its wake and knocking some of them off-balance.

Robin grumbled to himself. "Everyone still with us?"

Little Raven scanned the others as Rajah Rahbin and Bat-Girl remounted their vehicles. "We're still with you, chief, lead on." They looked up suddenly, to see the shadow of an invisible ship moving across the ground.

They glanced at each other uneasily, and then sped along the hills near the Wales border, following the shadow into a clearing, only to find Larkin's vehicle parked and empty, motor still running. They circled around it and the mysterious gray cone at its center. "This doesn't make any sense," Squire said as he leaned over to remove the keys from the ignition. "They're not out of gas; did they try to escape the rest of the way on foot?"

Robin and Little Raven sped off, circling wider around the surrounding territory, before returning from their futile search. "What was that shadow? Squire, would they have a secret hq hidden in these hills? What's this cone?"

"It's the remains of a meteorite which fell in the 17th century, according to the local records. I've not read anything which would suggest they'd have any kind of secret underground hideaway all the way out here ... " Squire replied.

Bat-Girl dismounted her scooter. "Your records could be wrong ... let's look around."

Several minutes later, Little Raven's piercing whistle summons the others. He crouched along the side of a very old walkway. "What do these mean?" he said. As they assembled near the remains of an ancient, crumbled wall, in the grass alongside it were a series of old flint arrow-heads arranged in a series of mysterious symbols, ranging from ordered lines to a bowl to a half moon to a pyramid to a device of spokes.

"I ... I don't know ... " the Squire said. "They do seem to be pointing back to the cone, don't they? Getting more and more complex as they do so?"

Robin nodded, "Let's follow their line and see if we observe anything else."

Rajah Rahbin was the one who first saw the glint of gold in the grass. He leaned down to retrieve the object. "Squire is this it? That's what you described, the Pain of the Goat?"

As they clustered around his hand, the colors of the symbol seemed to deepen, and its features changed, flowing like molten lava, until they saw clearly the hidden meaning the yellow sign contained. Bat-Girl cried out in horror at the revolting obscenity of the thing.

* * *

"You do not wonder that we did not stay long in that place," Cyril Sheldrake concluded.

"So what happened to the coin?" Beryl asked.

"We returned it to Travers," Cyril replied. "We never had any proof that he'd purchased it any way other than legitimately, and after that horrible image revealed itself, we decided he deserved it."

"So is there any connection between Larkin/Hutton and Señorita Scorpion?" Frankenstein asked. "So far as I'm concerned if there's some invisible force out there which is eating supervillains, more power to it."

"Unfortunately, it's not that simple," Squire replied. "Cyril had me do some research after we returned to base; there have been numerous other disappearances from the woods near that area of Goatswood, and just local folks, not all supervillains."

"And there's more," Cyril said. He rose to his feet and walked over to the study's bookshelf, pulling out a volume by Malcolm Quarrie entitled _British Gods_. "There appears to be connections between the yellow sign and that area of England." He opened the book to a marked page, displaying the symbol he'd spoken of earlier. "It was the symbol of an ancient fertility goddess called Shub-Niggurath, also known as The Goat With a Thousand Young, who was worshipped in the area surrounding Brichester, among other places near the Welsh border. Although there have been some examples of it appearing as far as Northumberland, where it seemed to be associated with someone or something called The King In Yellow."

"These ancient gods fill me with dread," Ystina said. "I do not look forward to this battle you seem to be leading us towards, sir Knight."

"I've killed gods before," Frankenstein said. "I have no fear of doing so again."

"It's decided then," the Knight said. "As soon as Bowman and Scarlet Hawk are back on their feet, we're going back to Brichester. It's time to end this story."

* * *

NOTES:

The supernatural aspects of this story (and the occasional small bit of prose) have been borrowed from a variety of secondary sources, notably detailing Ramsey Campbell, H.P. Lovecraft, Arthur Machen's "Little People" stories and Robert Potter's _The Germ Growers._

The Eyrie was the headquarters of the 'Robin/Olsen Team,' and my original conception for this youthful contingent of the Club of Heroes would have been a Silver Age Elseworlds one-shot which would have included Jimmy Olsen (and left out Bat-Girl). But I never developed a proper plot, and chose this incarnation instead. I think it's a real shame Rajah Rahbin was left out of Grant Morrison's "Black Glove" storyline.


	4. Sixtystone

SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY #4: "Sixtystone"

Near the campus of Brichester University, George Cross seated himself at a streetside table in front of Peace & Beans, the local vegetarian restaurant. A bohemian-appearing waitress whose eyelids lowered wickedly approached him as he perused the menu. "I'm gonna have the alfalfa sprouts and, uh, a plate of mashed yeast."

He set about reading a found copy of _The International Times_ , when his eyes widened as he took in some of the passers-by. "Cyril ... Beryl ... go to a new city and you know the first people you come across."

Beryl Hutchinson laughed, "Hi Georgie."

Cyril Sheldrake looked wary at the sight of his old friend. He guided Beryl to join him at the rough wooden table amidst the clientele of students and a few health-conscious oldsters. "So ... " he said, "visiting Brichester for business or pleasure? Anything to do with our ... mutual hobby?"

"Quite so," George nodded and lowered his voice, "a friend of mine, Talbot, came here after hearing that his brother had disappeared. He rang me yesterday, nearly incoherent, asking me whether I had seen the 'yellow sign,' whatever that is. Naturally I had to investigate. What about you two? I've been reading in the newspapers about your new septet, tackling some quite high-profile cases. I'd think Brichester is a bit out of your way."

At the mention of the yellow sign, the other two shared an uneasy glance. "I think we're here on exactly the same business," Cyril said, "though I suspect what you're really looking for is to the east, out in Goatswood." He gave George a capsule summary of the 'Pain of the Goat' case, and the Soldiers' decision to pursue the matter presently.

"That's ... pretty outside the sort of cases I am usually on top of ... " George mused. "So are you Seven a private club or can just anyone tag along?"

"We've always got room for you, Georgie," Beryl said.

Later that evening, George Cross had donned the costume of the Hood, accompanying the Knight & Squire as they joined their fellows in the woods toward Goatswood, at the clearing with its mysterious gray cone.

"So this is the famous meteorite," the Spider said. He ran his hands along the old stone.

Scarlet Hawk eyed his scanner. "It's not radioactive, at least. Do you see any obvious entrance?"

"Nothing obvious at all," said the Spider, "nor do we know if this even is an entrance; whatever the inhabitants of this place are, they're also using some sort of visually cloaked airship, remember."

"Might this help?" The Hood reached into one of his utility pouches and withdrew a black tablet of stone with writing displaying sixty characters in an alien language upon it. "It's one of the artifacts my friend's brother was working on before he left for Brichester; he called it the Sixtystone."

The Knight blinked, and took the object from his friend's hand, examining it closely. "I recognise some of these symbols; they're similar to the characters shaped from flint along the old stone wall at the edge of the clearing. And that one," he said pointing to a triskelion, "is the yellow sign ... the Pain of the Goat."

The Squire slipped off one of her gloves, attempting to read the information patterns off the object by touch. After only a moment she pulled her hand back as if it had been burned. "Ugh, it's horrible. Ancient and evil. We'd do better off to destroy the thing. But yeah, it can be used as a key, I think among other things."

"Do you see any insets or spaces which look like the tablet might fit into?" the Bowman asked.

"Nothing obvious," the Spider said. "Squire, I'm sorry, we need your talents."

"Just be careful," the Knight said, looking uneasy.

The Shining Knight placed her hand on the other girl's shoulder. "You're among those who love you, sister knight, no harm will come to you here."

The Squire looked from face to face hopelessly, and placed her hand once more on the tablet, the other one on the gray cone. Her face showed her revulsion as she took hold of the tablet, pressing the yellow sign against the top of cone and then rotating the tablet counter-clockwise.

"So it was a key after all," the Spider murmured as a hatchway opened in the turf at the base of the cone, revealing a stairwell carved into the earth.

The Squire dropped the stone, her face pale, and leaned back against the Knight, who whispered to her, "Good girl." Frankenstein knelt down to retrieve the tablet, securing it in his belt pouch.

The Shining Knight drew her sword in anticipation. "This has the look of the work of the Tylwydd Têg, the little people who were rumored to be ancient even in my time of Arthur. Who knows what monsters they employ to guard their gates?"

"Fortunately, our side has monsters of its own." Frankenstein stepped forward. "I will take point, I am invulnerable and no stranger to horrors."

The Shining Knight looked up at him admiringly. "A monster in name only," she said, "your heart is as true as any knight I have ever fought alongside. Lead on, lead on, and we shall follow."

Frankenstein entered the hallway, grateful for the dimness which hid his facial expression. Ystina, if only my heart were as invulnerable as the rest of me, he thought to himself as he proceeded downwards. He drew forth his steam-guns, having them at the ready.

Vanguard whickered resentfully, and the Shining Knight lay her head against his muzzle. "You'd barely fit in there, and not be able to fly. You remember our instructions ... if you don't hear back from us after a day, contact Detective Sergeant Lament, yes?" He nodded, and she followed the other Soldiers into the dark.

Nothing prepared them for the sudden dropoff, as the stairwell crumbled suddenly and the eight heroes found themselves plummeting groundward. The Spider activated his jetpack, reaching for the Scarlet Hawk and the Bowman to slow their fall.

"Did we just send them all to their deaths?" The Bowman cursed, "Spider, lower us down and let's try to salvage something from this mess." He did not relish the idea of wading through his teammates' corpses, or how he would regather the International Association of Masked Archers if this dreadful case needed to be pursued further.

The Spider nodded his assent in the darkness, and they followed their companions' startled cries. They need not have worried, as the others found their impact halted by a tarp, stretched taut almost like a trampoline, before they hit the ground. Jarred and disoriented, they detangled themselves and made their way through the darkness. "Torches out," the Knight said, and the Spider distributed illuminated spelunkers' helmets to those who needed them.

"Now we know why they use an airship," Shining Knight said indignantly.

"Huh, look at this," the Scarlet Hawk said. "This cloth is suspended between a host of statues. Familiar-looking ones too, I must say."

As they all turned to look, the Squire was first to express her dismay. "Wonder Woman?"

Life-size statues bearing the Themyscarian uniform were poised in a circle around the tarp, which was attached to their hands as if they were holding it. "Not quite," the Scarlet Hawk observed. "The details of the uniform are wrong. This is Wonder Queen, her predecessor who operated in my day. It appears we're not the first costumed adventurers to visit from the surface world."

Only the Knight, through his contacts with the Justice League, knew that Wonder Queen was in fact Hippolyte, mother of Wonder Woman herself who had time-traveled back into the 1940s. "We know something else: at least one individual has come down here and then returned to the surface world. And if she can, we can as well."

"The colours on the stalagmites and stalactites down here are amazing," the Hood observed. "Such a loss they must always be hidden in darkness."

"Who knows about 'always,'" the Spider said. "There may be some Mole People who travel always in darkness, or there may be other sources of light down here ... for all we know one of the outside walls of the cavern we're in has a light switch. It's not as if anyone was expecting us."

"We must hang together, for we can not protect each other if we explore in tandem," said Frankenstein, privately thinking: for I can not protect all of you. "Chinard also has a point. We ought to extinguish our torches and see whether there is any external source of light down here we can follow to its source. That will help conceal our arrival, and also allow our eyes to adjust to whatever we might find."

After a brief discussion, it was agreed. Squire's eyes quickly adjusted. "You were right ... I can see something coming over there, on the far left. Do you?"

The Shining Knight nodded, "I do as well. Our path is set."

"I'm blind as a bat," Scarlet Hawk said. "I'll follow your lead." He wondered what sort of frequency of illumination was gender-biased, as none of the other five Soldiers could see anything as well.

As they approached a passageway leading to a larger cavern, their sight became clearer due to what appeared to be a series of artificial suns, hanging from the cave ceilings. The suns made the interiors reflect with technicolour brilliance. Additional light came from a shining pyramid of flame which was erupting at the head of an evidently sacrificial platform, though cloudlike gases emitted from the flame lent an obscuring glow to the upper levels of the cavern. Gathered around the platform were the Tylwydd Têg: no more than five feet tall, their abominable yellow limbs, vague and yet too plainly seen, writhing and intertwined. They hissed, rather than spoke, in a venomous tongue, and yet one phrase was plainly recognisable: Shub-Niggurath. Strapped into the center of the platform was the man George Cross recognised as his friend Talbot, going into fits and speaking, in tongues, the very speech of hell.

Near the base of a platform was a woman, regally clad, her skin the same shade as the males, yet taller and beautiful of form and feature while the males were nothing but grotesque. "Hold," she cried out in sibilant English, "we have visitors to the cloudy depths of Demhe ... come forward, penitents to The Goat With a Thousand Young."

The celebration ceased, and the figures turned to watch the Soldiers as they ventured warily into the room. "I am Queen Maleva," the woman said, "you have come from the world above to join us?"

The Hood stepped forward. "We have come for that man," he said, pointing to Talbot. "If he is released to us, we will be willing to depart in peace."

"Silence, male!" Maleva hissed in anger. "Since the Wondrous one came to us in order to reveal the natural inferiority of the male race and to establish the rank of Queen, only females have been allowed to speak unbidden. Do you have any amongst you to speak in the presence of a true daughter of Shub-Niggurath?"

Squire and the Shining Knight glanced at one another, and the latter stepped forward, kneeling before the Queen. "I am Ystina, known as the Shining Knight, last scion of Camelot. I would enquire about your purposes for this captive male."

Maleva smiled. "We women who rule over the mole men mean to conquer the upper world by creating new forms of plague, grown in artificial seed-beds of pestilence. We send forth our ship, the Germ Grower, to gather living samples that we may learn how best to weaken and kill our inferiors. So rise, Shining Ystina, and stand by our side."

The Shining Knight drew her sword, "I have met another queen who was evil incarnate, and you are of like kind. I have nothing to offer you but the point of my sword." She leapt forward, and was interrupted by the mole men, who moved with alarming speed.

The other Soldiers similarly found themselves mobbed. The Hood brought forth his powerful lamp which he normally used to announce his presence to his superstitious, cowardly opponents, shining his insignia of a British cross. Groaning, many of them fled, and he cleared a path towards where his friend lay. He knelt down beside the man, "Talbot," he said, "Talbot, can you understand me? I'm here to help."

The man howled as if possessed, and from his head emitted a slimy tentacle, snake-like in smell and sticky in residue, which wrapped around the Hood like a python.

The others battled the crowd with sword, arrow and mace, web gun and throwball. Frankenstein pushed his way through in an attempt to grasp the foul appendage from which the Hood sought to free himself. As he wrestled with it, the Hood was released to the ground although Frankenstein then found himself bound. Struggling, he reached inside his pouch to pull out the black stone tablet.

"Ixaxar!" The cry went around the mole men at the sight of the tablet, "Ixaxar!" They began to back away, and when Frankenstein touched the stone to the tentacle it retracted back inside Talbot's skull. Whatever force caused the object to manifest though remained undaunted, and Talbot's body began to shift and change, transforming into that of a great wolf, which freed itself from its binds and crouched, snarling at Frankenstein.

"So, it's to be Frankenstein versus the Wolf-Man, is it?" The wolf lunged at Frankenstein's throat, and the fierce battle began. Once the Sixtystone was no longer being used, the mole men resumed their battle, though many scattered in disarray when the body of the wolf was tossed amongst them.

"There is no monster greater than Frankenstein!" he howled, brandishing the Sixtystone once more. He walked to the pyramid of flame, thrusting it inside, until the flames themselves turned black. The bleating of a thousand goats could be heard until the flame itself retracted, leaving nothing but the scent of ash.

"This way!" the Spider shouted over the hysteria of the mole men. He gathered the others together, Frankenstein carrying the unconscious form of the wolf, and directed them to a peculiarly organic looking vehicle, resembling nothing other than a yawl-built boat lying on the body of a large wheelbarrow.

"I curse you for your weakness, Talbot!" cried Maleva as he was carried off. "You shall never be free of this transformation! I curse you all with the wrath of Shub-Niggurath!"

The Knight nodded, "Inside!" he said, and they piled into the cramped structure. The Scarlet Hawk examined the controls, and set his hands to them. Erratically and abruptly, the Germ Grower rose into the air, heading up the passageway they had entered, soaring towards the light.

The Bowman eyed the pathway suspiciously. "Shouldn't there be a hatch opening about now, Baker?"

The Squire screamed as the vehicle crashed into the entranceway, the sound met by Vanguard's startled whinny from above as the ground erupted beneath the horse, sod exploded by the vehicle which appeared invisible in the sunlight. Frankenstein pushed his fist through the visor window, and with the assistance of the winged horse and the Spider's jetpack, the inhabitants managed to clear the vehicle before it tumbled backwards, crashing into the impossible depths below.

Once exposed to sunlight, Talbot reverted to his original human form. The Hood knelt down, removing his disguise so the face of George Cross was plainly visible. "Talbot? Larry Talbot? Are you still with us?"

"He might not be in his right mind," the Knight said. "I can't even imagine what he was subjected to down there."

"I'll take care of him, and be sure he gets the help he needs," George said.

"What are we going to do about the mole men," Squire asked.

"I think after the destruction we caused down there, they're no immediate threat. But we're going to contact the Justice Society, for the first thing, and see if they have any information in their archives which may be useful. Maybe call in the Ultramarines. This is not over yet, not by a long shot."

* * *

NOTES:

The supernatural aspects of this story (and the occasional small bit of prose) have been borrowed from _Wonder Woman_ #4 as well as a variety of secondary sources, notably detailing Ramsey Campbell, H.P. Lovecraft, Curt Siodmak, Arthur Machen's "Little People" stories and Robert Potter's _The Germ Growers._

The Hood was my original seventh member of the team; circumstances required his replacement with Frankenstein (sacrificing the universal Britishness of the team but acquiring a less generic Soldier in exchange). Alfalfa sprouts and mashed yeast is the menu item Woody Allen ordered at the Sunset Boulevard-located vegetarian restaurant in _Annie Hall_.


	5. The Tatters of the King

"Have you seen the Yellow Sign?"

Queen Cassilda sighed, and leaned her head against her hand. "Provoke me not, Naotalba. The diadem lies heavy upon my brow these past years, and I dread the signal from Carcosa, and I dread another day of war. Let the reign fall to Camilla, let the signal come to her."

Naotalba bowed his assent. "Camilla is recalcitrant as ever, my Queen. Perhaps if the succession were to wait until you received the sign yourself ... "

She looked at him with infinite weariness, shifting her right hand in a dismissive gesture. "I will no longer argue with my daughter; let her have her way. Her younger brothers Uoht and Thale each vie for the diadem, let them have it."

"The choice is still Camilla's, my Queen."

"She still has not chosen one to marry? Does she not know the laws of Yhtill? She strains our patience."

"Perhaps she loves them equally, my Queen, or perhaps she is unable to decide which would best rule Yhtill. The princess is ... often undecided in manners pertaining to ... "

"Pertaining to anything, but she is the eldest, and if she will not reign, she must choose who will reign in her stead. Is there no way to force her decision?"

Naotalba paused uneasily. "The princess does love masques and fancies, my Queen. Perhaps ... a masqued ball ... let her brothers romance her while disguised, that she may choose impartially."

"A masque ... yes, a masque!" Cassilda looked up alertly. "Perhaps a masque will yet deflect the Yellow Sign, if it does not know to whom to appear? Let it be so, my high-priest, let it most divinely be so!"

SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY #5: "The Tatters of the King"

Aboard the Aviosub, Frankenstein eyed the map suspiciously. "I don't think a country called Yhtill even exists in my world, not that I am an expert."

The Spider smirked, not knowing monsters were expected to be experts in geography, or in anything other than destruction, although he was certain that his own world was likewise lacking.

"It's an island nation off of Wales, independent since 14th century," the Scarlet Hawk said. "King Aldones was a fierce defender of his small plot of land, and a canny politician besides, maneuvering his way through alliances with the British and the Welsh as it suited him. Yhtill is in the Commonwealth but he kept his crown, although for all his troubles the country has become stagnant, almost detached from time."

"And yet they have enough enemies they need us as bodyguards?"

"Yhtill is at war with a small Mediterranean country called Alar, and has been for a long time ... something to do with mineral rights on a set of even smaller islands" the Knight said. "Alar is about the same size; their feud is almost embarrassingly quaint. Nevertheless, there have been genuine acts of sabotage on both sides. Yhtill is evidently holding some sort of fete which will decide the succession of the rulership of the country, and the risk of terrorism from Alar is something they take seriously. It's a masqued ball; we ought to feel right at home."

The Spider fingered the masque he had designed for his costume thoughtfully; the skin-tight black cowl sported reflective material which concealed the eyes while allowing him to view out unobscured, creating a disconcerting effect.

The Aviosub descended near the ancient royal castle, which was set on the far port of misty Lake of Hali; thin and blank, without a ripple or wind to stir it. They were met by a royal guard of half-a-dozen, clad in florid uniforms, and a man clad all in white, his features concealed behind a pallid masque. "Greetings, Seven Soldiers," said the man. "I am Naotalba, chief advisor to the Queen. Please forgive my conceit, in coming to greet you in the guise of the Phantom of Truth, but the fete is already underway, and all are to remain masqued until the princess has made her decision." He peered at their equipment as they traversed the hallways. "Where do you get those wonderful toys?"

The Seven Soldiers wandered through, looking for suspicious behaviour behind the outlandish costumes, eavesdropping on the conversations around them. "Did you get a load of what she's wearing?" "What is with those stockings?"

At the head of the ballroom was an ancient throne, on which sat a woman who was evidently Queen Cassilda, her eyes covered by a masque of glittering lace, dressed in an antique gown. At her feet sat a younger woman wearing a white bodysuit, a goat-masque concealing her features and a goatskin flung over her shoulders. Before her were two young men, one costumed as a beefeater, the other as a black pirate.

Camilla was bantering with the pair, but seemed genuinely clueless regarding their identities. "Ever dance with the devil in the pale moon light?"

"Only once," the black pirate admitted, "but it was for a very noble cause." The three laughed, as did those courtiers within listening distance.

As the laughter faded, Cassilda stepped down from the throne. "Evening advances," she said as she placed a hand on Camilla's shoulder, "and it is time to choose amongst your suitors. Which of the two will wear the diadem?"

Scarlet Hawk raised an eyebrow. "Well that explains why she won't come over to this side of the room."

"The beefeater impresses me with his steadfastness," she replied, "but the black pirate charms me with his wit. If I must choose one to consort with until the end of my days, it can only be him."

Cassilda slowly raised her arms, "So be it ... the succession to continue the royal line of Yhtill has been decided ... let us all now remove our masques for a moment, so that which of my sons shall next be king may be revealed, and so that they in turn may see the faces of those they will rule."

The guests did so, an aura of merriment felt about the room as identities were revealed, including the triumphant face of Uoht and the glum face of Thale.

Camilla looked up at Frankenstein, as the Soldier stood with folded arms near the family, guarding. "You, sir, should unmasque."

Frankenstein looked down at her, and scowled. "Indeed?"

"Indeed, it's time," said Cassilda. "We all have laid aside disguise but you."

"I wear no masque," he replied.

Camilla's face grew terrified, and she said in an aside to Cassilda, "No masque? No masque!"

Squire blinked, puzzled. "And that would be a bad thing, why?"

"Ah! Ah!" Cassilda pointed at the pouch around his waist. "The yellow sign! It reveals itself to us all! It is the day of the Last King!"

The Knight approached, "Frankenstein, what have you done?"

"What?" To his dismay, one of the symbols of the Sixtystone had begun to shine with a light which pierced through the leather casing. "This is but the Sixtystone from the cloudy depths of Demhe ... "

At the far end of Lake Hali, as if uncovered by the passing of a cloud, a great castle revealed itself. "Carcosa," Naotalba muttered.

The Bowman grabbed the high priest by the upper arm. "What is that city? What do you know about all of this?"

"This talisman indeed bears the nameless Yellow Sign handed down from the accursed cult of Hastur ... from primordial Carcosa," Naotalba replied. "It is the sign of the King in Yellow, the Last King who will ultimately usurp all royal successors thereafter. He is a king whom emperors have served."

"Your masques!" Cassilda screamed to those at the fete, "all must once more don their masques!"

The Knight furrowed his brow, "I remember reading about Hastur in Malcolm Quarrie's _British Gods_... he was a benign god of goat herders and shepherds ... "

No one could tell whether the castle of Carcosa sat upon the waters of Lake of Hali or beyond them on the unseen farther shore. "Cyril," the Squire whispered urgently, "look at the moon ... the rising moon is in front of the city's towers rather than behind them ... "

From the gates of Carcosa came the form of a gigantic human wrapt in tattered yellow silk robes, wearing a yellow silken mask, and bearing a smoking brand; by some trick of perspective it neither seemed to stride the Lake like a colossus, nor to move with uncanny speed, yet it but momentarily arrived at the castle of Yhtill. "The Last King has come," it intoned ominously, "the passing down of the diadem is now but mummery."

The Shining Knight whispered, "He scorns a crown, do you see? In truth, he has the look of a King of Rags and Tatters, ragged finery a mummer from my own time would don in mockery of a King, to represent Vice ... "

"The ambition of Caesar and of Napolean pales before that which could not rest until it had seized the minds of men and controlled even their unborn thoughts," Naotalba murmured.

The Scarlet Hawk cursed his decision to leave the Hoverer behind in the Aviosub, as the Shining Knight astride Vanguard, and the Spider using his jetpack, rose into the air to confront the King to his face.

Shining Knight drew her sword, "Are you a god?"

"I am the Unspeakable One, Him Who Is Not to be Named," it said, "who can not rest until I have seized the minds of men and controlled even their unborn thoughts. I needs must send my Stokers to reign you in, who would address me so to my face." The King in Yellow pressed its brand to the earth, which cracked open to reveal a man clad in colorful 18th century garb, a man in orange and black with a spherical helmet, and another man in a dark blue bodysuit with paler blue swaths trailing behind him from around his waist and over his face, concealing his identity.

The Knight felt a chill down his spine. "That's the uniform of Daniel Cormac... the original Jack O'Lantern ... but he died ... "

The Scarlet Hawk nodded, "I think I recall the other ones: the Gay Ghost, who was a member of the Crime Crusaders Club, and Jim O'Donnell, who fought crime during the 40's under the name Banshee ..."

He was interrupted by the Banshee's scream, the scream of one who had stayed too long in a place where what the living had seen was surpassed a thousandfold. The scream was joined by the other pair, and it send shivers down the spines of the living; what could be seen of the faces of the Banshee and the former Earl of Strethmere was wan and gray of pallor, as if representing an animated corpse.

The Scarlet Hawk faced down Banshee's attack, and the rest of the team divided to face the remaining two. Had the zombie-like creatures possessed the full clarity of mind of the originals, the Seven Soldiers would have become but more dead bodies for the King in Yellow to animate.

But their victory in battle against the undead former heroes was not the deciding factor in the war. "Yhtill and Carcosa are now the same city," the King in Yellow continued, "that is part of the price of this alliance against Alar; the other is the fixing of the masques." As he spoke, the Yhtillians realised that the masques they had donned at their Queen's insistence had become permanently affixed to their faces, and upon the forehead of each one burned the Yellow Sign.

Cassilda heard Camilla's agonised scream, and watched as she knelt down on all fours, bleating like a lost goat, and Cassilda cried bitterly, "Not upon us, oh King, not upon us!"

The King in Yellow for the first time directly acknowledged the former queen, asking "Victory has its price; did you think to be human still? It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God."

Bloodied but unbowed, the Soldiers looked aghast upon the Yhtillians as they continued the celebration of a masque in a grotesque manner, as those whose lives are little higher than the beasts, their tortured eyes matching Cassilda's moans of horror. The King in Yellow turned impassively and walked, as he had arrived, back to Carcosa.

The Shining Knight sheathed her sword, unbloodied from her battle against the dead. "We can not allow this to continue."

Frankenstein looked around him at the celebrants. "O miserable mankind, to what fall degraded, to what wretched fate reserved..."

The Knight shuddered, "No ... back to the Aviosub ... we're going to follow that so-called Last King to whatever hell he comes from."

Later, as the Aviosub accelerated skywards, the Squire glanced down. "Cyril ... the castle ... look at the castle ... "

The lands surrounding Carcosa were dark and twisted with corruption, a corruption which by now encompassed Yhtill. As they watched, it began to spread towards the mainland, the Welsh landscape falling under its shadow. "My god," the Bowman said, "it's not going to stop until it encompasses the whole country ... "

"If it will even stop there," the Spider pondered. "He said he was the Last King; who knows how far he means to take his ambitions?"

Cassilda stood before her throne, watching the silver aircraft soar towards the east, and clawed at her throat as her lips uttered a song of helpless despair.

"Along the shore the cloud waves break  
The twin suns sink behind the lake,  
The shadows lengthen  
In Carcosa.

Strange is the night where black stars rise,  
And strange moons circle through the skies,  
But stranger still is  
Lost Carcosa.

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,  
Where flap the tatters of the King,  
Must die unheard in  
Dim Carcosa.

Song of my soul, my voice is dead,  
Die thus, unsung, as tears unshed  
Shall dry and die in  
Lost Carcosa."

* * *

NOTES:

Readers are encouraged to consult the original story arc of _The King in Yellow_ , written by Robert W. Chambers and available online.

DC has already made claim to the Fox characters Phantom Lady and Blue Beetle, so I figured there'd be little harm in including the Golden Age Banshee; moreover he paired well with the Gay Ghost and Jack O'Lantern to represent 'DC Ireland'


	6. Nights of the Underground Fable

SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY #6: "Against the Nights of the Underground Fable"

(A great deal of the prose in the beginning of this story is from "An Inhabitant of Carcosa" written by Ambrose Bierce.)

The silver aircraft called the Aviosub soared over the lands surrounding Carcosa, which were dark and twisted with corruption. Bowman eyed the Knight curiously. "And did you notice Naotalba didn't know what the Yellow Sign was called? Yet you named it the Pain of the Goat."

The Knight looked troubled by his memory of the sign revealing its true shape to him, all those years ago. "Hastur was originally a benign god of goat herders. Queen Maleva worshipped Shub-Niggurath, the Goat With a Thousand Young. The symbol has been used to represent both."

"Why 'the Pain of?'," Squire asked. "Birth pangs?"

"It put an end to the mole-men's fire," Frankenstein said.

"So it did, so it did ... " the Spider mused. "Which convinced all of us it could be used for our benefit, so Frankenstein carried it with him to Yhtill ... and then its presence seemed to act as a catalyst for Hastur's arrival."

Scarlet Hawk nodded, "The Spider's right. I think we've been manipulated. Even Princess Camilla dressed as a goat during the masque."

The Shining Knight winced, recalling the hapless girl's degradation after the King in Yellow's arrival. "He does truly represent Vice."

"Ystina, you said he looked like a mummer ... that's an actor, right? ... the 'King of Rags and Tatters' ... does that imply that ... what we saw of him wasn't real? That this was all a play?" Squire asked.

"The Hastur we met was no actor, nor were his undead scions," Frankenstein said. "Would that they were."

"Hrh, look to the left, mates, we have company." Scarlet Hawk peered from his pilot's seat at the black, shriveled, flying monstrosity with tentacles tipped with razor-sharp talons that hurtled through the air towards the Aviosub.

Vanguard snorted, stamping his hooves. The Shining Knight rose to her feet. "I know, you have been too long only a means of transportation and your heart thirsts for battle. Shall we approach this feaster from afar, together?" He nodded, and Squire quickly unbolted the hatchway door, clearing the way as the winged steed leaped out into the sky, the Shining Knight diving after him, landing perfectly mid-saddle with her sword drawn. Vanguard snorted and his hooves and teeth joined her sword as they fought the monster.

Scarlet Hawk cursed. "There's more on the way ... that was foolhardy ... now we don't have a choice. Bowman?"

Bowman nodded, manning the helm as Scarlet Hawk stepped into the Hoverer, holstering his old revolvers along with his throwball. He and the Spider stepped out into the skies as they were beset by a squadron of attackers. The Knight stepped up to join him as co-pilot.

The Aviosub's guns fired against the monsters as they came, but soon it came under a more focused attack. "They're damaging the engines," Bowman said.

"We're going to have to take her down, and hope those things don't follow us on the ground," the Knight said. "Though god know what other monsters are waiting for us there."

"I'll be waiting for them," Frankenstein said, as the vehicle began its rocky descent. The trio of aerial Soldiers retreated, firing and slashing away as they too descended to join their teammates, the Hoverer damaged and smoking as Scarlet Hawk guided it in for a rough landing. They all looked up to see the surviving monsters departing skywards, and a sudden chill wind struck their faces as they reunited to examine their unfamiliar surroundings. On every side of them stretched a bleak and desolate expanse of plain, covered with a tall overgrowth of sere grass, which rustled and whistled in the autumn wind. Protruded at long intervals above it, stood strangely shaped and somber-colored rocks, which seemed to have an understanding with one another and to exchange looks of uncomfortable significance, as if they had reared their heads to watch the issue of some foreseen event. A few blasted trees here and there appeared as leaders in this malevolent conspiracy of silent expectation.

"Look," Squire said, "we're ... somewhere else. Twin suns." Over all the dismal landscape a canopy of low, lead-colored clouds hung like a visible curse, obscuring the light of the suns which were still clearly visible in the sky. In all this there were a menace and a portent-a hint of evil, an intimation of doom. Bird, beast, or insect there was none. The wind sighed in the bare branches of the dead trees and the gray grass bent to whisper its dread secret to the earth; but no other sound nor motion broke the awful repose of that dismal place.

"This is some powerful magic," the Shining Knight said. "I don't believe even our Gloriana Tenebrae would have had the power to install a second sun in the sky."

The Knight sighed, this not being the place to discuss overlapping pocket universes with his teammate. "We're still distant from the castle, and so far as the way remains clear, we'll just have to travel the rest on foot."

Trekking on, they observed in the herbage a number of weather-worn stones, evidently shaped with tools. They were broken, covered with moss and half sunken in the earth. Some lay prostrate, some leaned at various angles, none was vertical. The Shining Knight knelt down to examine them. "These appear to be the headstones of graves."

The Knight paused and looked around. "If there were any graves here, they no longer exist, not even as mounds or depressions."

"The years level all," Scarlet Hawk added solemnly.

Scattered here and there, more massive blocks showed where some pompous tomb or ambitious monument had once flung its feeble defiance at oblivion. "So old seem these relics," Frankenstein said quietly, "these vestiges of vanity and memorials of affection and piety, so battered and worn and stained-so neglected, deserted, forgotten the place, that I can not help thinking myself the discoverer of the burial-ground of a prehistoric race of men whose very name is long extinct."

"You are filled with a rare and poetic melancholy I have not seen of you before," said the Shining Knight. "It suits you well, oh modern prometheus."

Frankenstein grunted, Squire looked at her wryly in response to her comment: Ystina's been educating herself, she thought.

No signs of human life were anywhere visible nor audible; no rising smoke, no watch-dog's bark, no lowing of cattle, no shouts of children at play-nothing but that dismal burial-place, with its air of mystery and dread. "Will we not become delirious, here beyond human aid?" Bowman mused aloud, even as he walked among the crumbling stones and in the withered grass.

A noise behind them caused them to turn about. A wild animal-a lynx- was approaching. Vanguard sprang toward it, rearing high. The lynx trotted tranquilly by within a hand's breadth and disappeared behind a rock.

A moment later a man's head appeared to rise out of the ground a short distance away. He was ascending the farther slope of a low hill whose crest was hardly to be distinguished from the general level. His whole figure soon came into view against the background of gray cloud. He was half naked, half clad in skins. His hair was unkempt, his beard long and ragged. In one hand he carried a bow and arrow; the other held a blazing torch with a long trail of black smoke. He walked slowly and with caution, as if he feared falling into some open grave concealed by the tall grass. This strange apparition surprised but did not alarm, and taking such a course as to intercept him, the Spider met him almost face to face, accosting him with the familiar salutation, "God keep you."

He gave no heed, nor did he arrest his pace.

"Good stranger," the Spider continued, "we are ill and lost. Direct us, I beseech you, to Carcosa."

The man broke into a barbarous chant in an unknown tongue, passing on and away.

An owl on the branch of a decayed tree hooted dismally and was answered by another in the distance. Looking upward, they saw through a sudden rift in the clouds Aldebaran and the Hyades. In all this there was a hint of night-the lynx, the man with the torch, the owl.

Scarlet Hawk looked up. "We can even see the stars in absence of the darkness ... they're black against a nearly white sky. Under what awful spell does this mad world exist?"

A great root of the giant tree against whose trunk they passed held enclosed in its grasp a slab of stone, a part of which protruded into a recess formed by another root. The stone was thus partly protected from the weather, though greatly decomposed. Its edges were worn round, its corners eaten away, its surface deeply furrowed and scaled. Glittering particles of mica were visible in the earth about it-vestiges of its decomposition. This stone had apparently marked the grave out of which the tree had sprung ages ago. The tree's exacting roots had robbed the grave and made the stone a prisoner.

A level shaft of light illuminated the whole side of the tree as they continued on their trek. The suns were rising in the rosy east. They stood between the tree and the broad red disks-no shadow darkened the trunk. A chorus of howling wolves saluted the dawn. They saw them sitting on their haunches, singly and in groups, on the summits of irregular mounds and tumuli filling a half of the desert prospect and extending to the horizon. And then they knew that this was the ancient and frightful red-litten city of Carcosa.

After their long trek, the castle loomed unimaginably large before them, seeming to stretch off into space. Its walls were rough-hewn from red stone, its turrets reeking of evil. Its portal though was open, the hatch down and covering a yawning moat which seemed to descend to the underworld. "It looks like we're not unwelcome," the Knight said, "it's time to do what we came here for."

The Soldiers looked at one another, their faces filled with trepidation. Weapons drawn, they entered the castle in tight formation, backs to each other as they traversed the confusing tangle of ill-lit corridors with disturbing frescoes that chronicles Carcosa's bloodcurdling history. Eventually arriving inside a frightening domed room, they beheld an immense circular table, armoured fingers seated at it; above them, another pair sat on thrones of gold atop a stone dais. On the right slumped the lumpish figure of the King in Yellow, his brand on one side of his throne, his sword on the other. On the left sat a woman clad in gold and purple, her features concealed behind a gold masque with goatlike horns at its peak. On the wall behind the thrones was draped the symbol of a silver pine tree on a dark green background.

"Who disturbs the Knights of the Shadow Realm of Perfidious Albion?" asked the woman, when the Soldiers entered. They all turned to face her, and her voice as well as the features of her masque were instantly recognisable to one of the intruders.

The Shining Knight snarled, her face showing her loathing. "Morgaine le Fey!" She leapt forward, sword drawn and aimed at the woman's throat. The greyish-white hands of the King in Yellow reacted with lightning swiftness, drawing forth his sword to intercept the attack, and such was the force of the block that it rebounded her across the room. Frankenstein ran to retrieve her. "His sword ... " she whispered as he eased her back to her feet.

"The sword?" Frankenstein asked as her teammates backed up to clear a protective circle around the girl.

"It is Caliburn," she said, her voice mournful. "I did not recognise him when he walked amongst us in Yhtill, but Hastur is naught other than some twisted rendition of good King Arthur. Is Carcosa thus Morgaine's shadow reflection of Camelot?"

The knights had risen to their feet. "You would attack the Queen?" one of them shouted. He was hideously ugly, and his voice was garbled and unhealthy, as if he were speaking from underwater. "In truth as my name is Lancelot, I shall have your heads for this!"

Hastur beckoned to those who called him liege. "Come Lance, Gawain, Kay and Bors, let us dispel these intruders who would insult our Queen!" He descended on the Shining Knight, sword whirling in his powerful arms.

Frankenstein stepped forward to protect her, but found himself blocked by Gawain. "A biggun, eh?" the man said. "My strength is only starting to reach its peak as the twin suns rise ... let us see whether he can challenge me even now." Frankenstein grunted in pain as the knight's powerful hands met his own, and the pair began to wrestle.

The Knight swept aside his cape, and a squadron of miniature spitfires flew out, stinging bullets deflecting off Lancelot's seemingly invulnerable armour. His face split into a ghoulish grin beneath his helm, and he entered into battle with the Knight and Squire, their swords ineffective against his protection.

Scarlet Hawk aimed his throwball at Kay, who staggered under Baker's deadly accuracy, but a shift of his own cloak and he disappeared from sight. Scarlet Hawk backed away, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, when he felt the side of his helmet jarred by a blow from an invisible sword.

Bowman drew forth an a slew of arrows, aimed at Bors. The latter raised his hand, and from a scarlet ring he wore emitted tongues of flame, which incinerated the arrows before they could reach their target. Slowly, the shadow knight began to advance.

As the battles raged on, the Spider drew forth his web gun, firing a steel strong strand to the ceiling of the dome. He drew himself up to the top, where he hung like his namesake waiting for its prey.

Shouts of frustration and pain filled the throne room, and he saw his allies on the losing side. Slowly, he descended once more, until he sat in a reposed position, facing Morgaine. "Your Majesty," he said, bowing his head respectfully.

She tilted her head at him curiously. "You have the look of a master manipulator. And you are no more native to the world these others came from than I am. What boon do you seek?"

"Much like you, I am a seeker after knowledge." He bowed his head. "It was you who sent the Clockwork Cagliostro to storm Edinburgh Castle, wasn't it? What was your claim there?"

She snorted. "I am not titled the Witch-Queen of Northumberland for naught. Our people came from space to inhabit that land, and there was a temple built to me there. It is the first of the places we will reclaim when we take our rightful place once more in the world of men, striding forth from Yhtill."

He hrmed, removing a small box from his weapons pack and gazing at it thoughtfully. Her eyes widened. "That ... that ... how dare you bring that abominable object here! How did you come to obtain that thing?"

"Oh ... this little toy? It was described in some antique papers by Giuseppe Balsamo ... the Count Alessandro di Cagliostro. He was really quite ahead of his time, you know. I didn't realise at first that his abstract symbols were in fact something like circuit diagrams, and that many of his mystical discourses were in fact instruction manuals." It was only the Scarlet Hawk, under hypnosis, who had had the necessary skills to construct it, he recollected to himself, but some secrets are best left unspoken. "Your clockwork toymaker certainly seemed interested in those papers. I wonder what it does?" His deft fingers roamed along its side, finally reaching and turning a clockwork key.

Morgaine shrieked in fury, gold-clawed hands lunging for him, but he quickly retreated back up to the dome ceiling and out of her reach, as the box began to emit a still, small sound.

Ping ... ping ... ping ... ping ... ping ...ping ... ping ...

As if in answer, the walls of the domed room resounded with a BOOM.

A glowing tube appeared out of nowhere, and from it appeared a man eight feet tall, barechested and carrying a flaming sword. A winged helm rested over his long dark hair, and he rode atop an eight-legged stallion. "Aho, Thunderer," he said to his mount in a voice that filled the room as his horse reared into the air, "what devilry have we been summoned into?"

Hastur turned from the Shining Knight, and his sword Caliburn flashed through the air, only to be met by impenetrable flame. Morgaine screamed in hatred as the King in Yellow was felled, and the man dismounted, joining the Soldiers in battle. Thunderer's eyes flashed as it began to rampage around the room, hooves striking out against the blood-stained walls. Morgaine began to utter ancient words of control, but the horse charged to her. Panicked, she teleported herself away, abandoning her puppet knights.

As the last of them fell, the Shining Knight approached the man who had come to their aid. She knelt at his feet, "Sir, we thank you for your aid. May we have your name, that we may sing songs of your greatness in battle?"

He smiled down at her as he sheathed his sword. "I am Leäfar, called Lonar. I as well as these shadowy ones are inhabitants not of earth, but of ether; as they have themselves told you, we are dwellers in space. They have been interfering in human history and warring on the Infinite One for centuries. Later on in the plains of Assyria, under the name and form of a man, I baffled the designs of another of the same evil race. At the call of the Mother Box, I joined your battle to warn your first father of the designs of an enemy of the same order as this one of yours, but far mightier than she."

"We shall warn our leaders," the Knight said. "Lonar, we ... our team ... our vehicle was destroyed. I do not know what will happen to us if Carcosa contracts and removes itself from Yhtill and the Isles. Will we be stranded here?"

Lonar looked around the room, his eyes settling finally. "This artifact does not belong here. It springs from your own world. Assemble atop it, and I will dispatch you thence."

"The table?" Squire's eyes widened. "This is actually the real King Arthur's round table?"

The Shining Knight grinned, "If not _the_ real, than _a_ King Arthur, possibly. Although it does have a similar look to the one that I knew." She clambered atop it, followed by Vanguard. The others glanced at each other, almost shrugging, and joined her.

Lonar removed a gold box from the lining of his helmet. It was much smaller than the antiquated one the Spider had assembled, but he used it to open another boom tube, rough riding the Soldiers back to the Earth they knew.

His ears still ringing, Scarlet Hawk recognised the familiar architecture, on the Orkney island northwest of Scotland. "My god, he sent us home," he said as they all dismounted the table.

The Spider looked down at the clockwork device in his hand. "These are very clever devices, it seems. We must be careful with this one."

Frankenstein grinned, looking even more ghoulish. "And we have a new centerpiece for our meeting room. It fits us, I think."

Bowman looked at the Spider warily. How long had he access to the papers which had allowed him to build the device? Why hadn't he notified the rest of the team? He would leave his questions unstated for now, in their moment of victory, but he would not easily forget his suspicions.

"And if what Lonar said is true," the Knight said, "we not only prevented the shadow realm of Perfidious Albion from completely overrunning our own reality level, but reclaimed one of our greatest treasures. That's about all one could hope for from a successful case."

"And a day the minstrels will be singing of for generations." The Shining Knight raised an imaginary glass, "to the Seven Soldiers!"

* * *

In addition to the Bierce, some supernatural aspects of this story (and the occasional small bit of prose) have been borrowed from a variety of secondary sources, notably detailing Robert Potter's _The Germ Growers._ The title and aspects of the plot have been borrowed from Kim Newman's story "Clubland Heroes."


	7. Doomsday Plus Seven

SEVEN SOLDIERS OF VICTORY #7: "Doomsday Plus Seven"

Scarlet Hawk looked at the wristwatch-like device in his hand. "Something this size is a time machine?"

Jimmy Watson nodded, "It's linked up to a hyperdimensional computer, all pilot research by the 'Mark Tyme' project. All that's needed is to attach one of these 'magic patches,' actually a micro-thin skin of Gryptonian between two layers of cloth, to your uniforms, and the computer will do the rest."

Squire bounced on the balls of her feet, clearly anticipatory. "I can't believe we're going to travel into the future!"

The Shining Knight grinned at her wryly, feeling at home with the scientist's Welsh accent. "Some of us already have, you know."

"Just remember this is no pleasure jaunt," the Bowman said. "Derek Bradbourne and Richard Plante were both good at their jobs; whatever's caused them to lose communication isn't likely to be trivial."

"Why such an ... odd year as 4003?" the Spider asked. "Why not an even two thousand years, if that was the era you're interested in?"

"I wish I had a good answer to your question," Jimmy Watson replied, "except to say that chronospace is not evenly textured, nor is it contoured in a way which maps intuitively into our calendar rotations. Some dates just seem to be more easily accessible than others."

Frankenstein scowled, remembering the farther distant era he had escaped from before finding himself in this alternate Earth which was nearly identical to his own. "The future has no fear for me," he said, grabbing one of the magic patches from Jimmy Watson's hands and affixing it to his jacket lining.

"We'll all have faced worse," the Knight said, taking another one of the patches. "Let's proceed."

The remaining members followed suit, and then Scarlet Hawk pressed the activation button. Jimmy Watson beheld a blinding flash of light, and the team found themselves cascading down through the eerie rainbow effect that Ian Holcomb-Baker had once beheld. The Seven Soldiers of Victory looked around. They were in an uninhabited forestry; it appeared to be amidst the ruins of Cardiff.

Squire shuddered, taking hold of the Knight's arm. "Cyril, I don't think I like this ... "

The Shining Knight knelt down, running her fingers through the rocky ground. "Are all our battles to be for naught? This appears less populated than even lost Carcosa."

The Spider frowned. "Remember what Jimmy Watson told us: this is just one possible future we are in. Perhaps we can even find some way to prevent its occurrence."

"Then how do we know this is the same possible future that Bradbourne and Plante are in?" Squire asked.

"Jimmy Watson said they could compensate for any divergence drift, if I recall his terminology correctly," Scarlet Hawk said. "I suppose we'll just have to take his word for it."

"It's a good thing George Cross isn't here," the Knight said quietly, "this would break his heart."

"These plants look strange ... I don't know how much species drift should have occurred after two thousand years, but some of the changes are consistent with radiation-induced mutation," the Bowman said. "At any rate, nothing's gained by standing around talking. Knight, how should we work this?"

"It's unfortunate we couldn't take the Hoverer or Vanguard," he said, "but the Spider's jet pack still ought to work." He turned to Alfred Chinard. "We'll head south-southeast, opposite the wind, but you get above the treeline and take an aerial view and let us know whether there's anything worth seeing."

The Spider saluted and rose into the air, jetting around in circles before quickly returning back to earth. "We're not the only ones here alive," he said with a raised eyebrow, "which is presumably good news. There's an aircraft coming this way from the west. They no doubt spotted me."

"Where there is life, there is hope," Frankenstein said. "Let us see what they think of visitors from their past."

The futuristic jet plane began a slow descent in a clearing near where the Spider had hovered. The Knight beckoned to his allies. "Weapons sheathed, but be wary. We have no idea what to expect, or what customs they may have evolved by now."

The septet approached the jet as the hatchway opened, and four figures clad in skintight black uniforms descended: a clean-shaven man with blond hair in a military cut; two women, one with long brown hair, the other with Asian features and black hair; and a second man, much larger than the others, bearded and with furs augmenting his uniform.

The clean-shaven man looked at the Soldiers with wide eyes. "My god," he said in an American accent, "they could be superheroes, almost, aside from the big green guy ... does one of those in the helmets look like Peacemaker?"

Scarlet Hawk harrumphed. "You're Americans?

The man shook his head, "Not all of us. My name is Captain Boyd Ellis, of the United States Air Force; as is my fiancée, Jill Malden," he nodded in the direction of the brown-haired woman. "Our fellow traveler Ikei Yashida is from Japan, and Kuno is from Greenland. We've been ... seeing what's left of America ... but had heard rumors that there was some new construction in London, so we crossed over to check it out." He looked over the Soldiers' distinctive uniforms, many of which bore designs suggestive of a military force. "Are you affiliated with the London group?"

"No, we're ... actually here looking for some lost friends of ours," the Knight said. "Although from what you say, London seems like a good place to start.

"Kona knows this old one," the large man said as he stepped down and approached the Spider, warily. "Before his long sleep, Kona saw old one in his dreams, when he walked through land of graves."

The Spider's eyes widened, for once his composure shaken. "I beseeched you to direct us to Carcosa, though you did not, then, know the language that I spoke." He shuddered, haunted by memories of that dim land, and looked from Kona to the other members of the group while he exerted his logical sense to suppress his emotional reaction. "I couldn't help noticing that you're using a lot of 20th century idioms. And you spoke about 'the United States Air Force' ... but also 'what's left of America' ... has the country truly been that static for two centuries?"

Ellis looked uncomfortable at the question. "No ... not in the way you mean," Yashida spoke next. "We're actually from the 21st century, ourselves ... we were aboard a Saturn VI rocket in the year 2012 when the war broke out ... one of our assignments had been to test an experimental cryogenics system for long-distance interstellar travel. We put ourselves on ice until the radiation had subsided to safe levels ... we crash landed in Greenland which is where we found Kuno ... he's a Goth from the 3rd century who had been frozen in the tundra, so we had a lot in common ... and so you see we're a fairly motley crew."

The Shining Knight eyed Kuno with curiosity, silently mouthing Yashida's description to herself.

"We have a lot in common, then," the Knight said. "We're equally, as you put it, motley. We time traveled here directly from the same era as you, though some years before. Our friends are from the same era."

"We have just come from a meeting with another time traveler," Malden said, "from an alternate future to this one. This seems to be a popular vacation spot."

"An alternate future?" Bowman asked. "So this devastation isn't inevitable?"

"It is for us," Ellis said sourly, "for whatever reason the three of us lucked out and became trapped on this path. We can't exactly go back to 2012."

"Unfortunately, I agree," Scarlet Hawk said. "You'd either be trapped in a radioactive hell, or else exist as nothing but quantum ghosts."

"It appears we're after the same thing then," the Knight observed. "We ought to combine our forces in this savage land. Unfortunately, we were not able to bring our own transportation with us; does that jet plane of yours have room enough for an additional seven?"

"That big green friend of yours will be a little cramped," Malden grinned, "but I think we can make it work."

Frankenstein scowled, unamused. "I have borne worse than that in the slave pits of Mars, and in the London underground during rush hour."

The paired teams maneuvered their way into the jet plane, and with Ellis at the helm they rose once more into the skies, overlooking the overgrown landscape.

"Captain," the Knight said as he joined him at the co-pilot's seat, "What happened in your timeline in 2012? If there's some event we can avert, some pitfall we can avoid … whose finger pressed the button which sent nuclear death on its way and triggered the holocaust which almost completely wiped out life on our planet?"

"We never got all the details straight … as you can imagine, there was a lot of confusion at the time, and there weren't many records after the fact which survived," Ellis said. "Best as we were able to make out, a Latin American dictator named Rykos launched nuclear missiles at New York and Moscow, and managed to fool the U.S. and the Russians into believing the other had launched a first strike. By the time the American and Russian governments discovered his ruse, they had already retaliated, and the automated missile systems couldn't be countermanded."

"My god," Bowman responded, "it's like _Red Alert_ all over again … "

"Still, two thousand years is an immense length of time, by human standards," the Spider mused, "it's surprising more of the Isles aren't populated by now."

"Don't forget that most of the planet had been poisoned," Yashida said, "and there must have been many generations of harmful, if not fatal, mutations induced by the radiation. We have encountered some marvelous things in our time here, including new divergent species."

Squire eavesdropped, eyes scanning the horizon, only half listening in to the debate around her. "That looks like the pretty familiar London skyline right there," she pointed, "and it looks like they've got a regular dust-up going on as well."

As the jet plane approached the outskirts of the city, they witnessed a skirmish between what appeared to be the city's defenders, humans clad in armour, against a wave of approaching marauders clad in forest gear and riding what appeared to be giant lizards. As they flew closer, it became clear that the attackers were nonhumans, with scale-like green reptilian skin.

"Are the battle lines to be this clearly drawn?" asked Frankenstein. "Have we traveled hence to defend the great city against advancing monsters?"

"We've been defending humanity since we arrived here," Malden said. "Come on Ikei, it's time to suit up and even the odds here a bit."

The other woman gave Malden a solemn nod and a thumb's-up gesture, to which the Shining Knight raised a curious eyebrow as the pair unstrapped from their seats and climbed down a hatchway into the lower part of the vehicle.

Ellis decelerated and directed the jet plane downwards, so that it split the battle lines, causing the lizard men to back away and the armoured humans to retreat partway to the barricades surrounding London.

From a hatchway at the bottom of the jet plane, soared a two-person glider guided by Malden and Yashida. They hovered over the battlefield like a great silver bird of prey, directing particle beams to scatter the invaders.

"Kona goes to war; today is a good day," he said as the team prepared to exit the aerocraft. Ellis opened the doorway and the Goth led the remaining eight members of the party into the midst of the lizard men.

The lizard men's strategy fell into disarray, yet still they battled on tenaciously, unwilling to retreat. The Seven Soldiers and their newfound allies altered the balance of forces, but the defense was still hard-fought.

Squire saw one of the city's defender's fall, one of the lizard men approaching to finish him off, and she approached her opponent from behind, slamming him on the side of the head with the flat of her sword, and then again as the man tumbled down. Warily, she approached the blue-clad human, checking to see whether he was alive. He mumbled something incomprehensible ... stroy nemy? Her fingers brushed over his helmet, and she felt a chill down her spine at what her ability to read information patterns by touch indicated to her. Carefully, she slid the helmet off the man's head, and tilted her ear into the man's helmet.

She was correct, as always: it was equipped with earphones that repeatedly replayed the message: "Destroy the Enemy! Destroy the Enemy! Destroy the Enemy!"

"Cyril," she whispered to herself. Ducking and weaving, she made her way through the battlefield towards her partner. Immediately, she held his back, falling into battle formation. "Cyril," she said, their twin swords flashing. "Something's wrong. I don't know if we're on the right side of this battle."

The Knight looked around, "I think we've got them on the run," he said. "I've no desire to shed blood, here, anyway. Let's gather the team together, and you can tell us and Ellis' crew what you uncovered."

The Spider examined the helmet curiously as Squire described her story. "A rather primitive brainwashing technique," he said, "and must certainly reduce their ability to react to their surroundings."

The Knight looked around. "We've got a lot of ground to cover. I don't want folks going off on their own, but we ought to divide forces. Beryl, you and Ystina come with me and take north-northwest, following the lizard men. The rest of you, cover south and east to circle around and try to infiltrate the city."

Scarlet Hawk grinned, "Y'keeping the gels to yourself, then?" He beckoned with his right arm towards the southeast, "C'mon blokes, let's go see what we can see."

Frankenstein looked characteristically sullen, and Bowman sighed heavily, earning him a curious glance from the Spider.

* * *

 _The Secret City:_

The armoured trio traveled north, following the trail of the giant lizards through the wooded areas surrounding London. They were fascinated as they examined the greenery, as the shape and colours had changed much more in the two centuries between their common time and this one, than it had between Ystina's time and Cyril's and Beryl's era. As they passed by a number of odd, tulip-like shrubs, the plants began to emit a dark, sky-obscuring vapor-cloud. The trio were temporarily blinded, and they quickly backed into a protective formation, blades drawn.

"Cyril?"

"Shhh ... " the Knight whispered. "Ystina, still with us?"

"Aye," she replied quietly. "Is this an attack, or something natural?"

"I can barely see the tip of my sword," he admitted. "Let's keep going in the direction we were, and we ought to be past these clouds soon."

They'd moved on only several yards when the clouds dissipated, revealing them to be surrounded by a dozen lizard men, bearing ray guns.

"Do you speak English?" the Knight enquired.

The question seemed to startle the others, and they conversed with each other in an unfamiliar, sibilant tongue. They did not lower their weapons, however, and the Knight looked over at his companions. "Follow my lead," he said.

He addressed the lizard men once more. "I don't know whether you can understand me, but I want you to know we are not allied with the Londoners. We aided them, but due to a misunderstanding." He set his sword down on the ground, and stood with his hands raised in the air. The Shining Knight hesitated, reluctant to part from her weapon, but eventually did so, as did the Squire. The Knight stood for a moment, hands raised in the air, and then finally removed his helm.

The lizard men appeared shocked at the gesture, which only confirmed his inclination that he was on the right path. Slowly, he knelt down, and gave a low toss of the helmet at the feet of the lizard men who stood before him. One of them picked it up gingerly, and tilted his ear to the interior of the helm. He passed it then to another one, who judging by the metal ornaments he wore may have been some kind of superior officer. The apparent leader examined the helm carefully, also listening. He hoped they lacked the technical savvy to notice the circuitry which connected to his squadron of miniaturised spitfires, and would neither damage it nor confuse it with the brainwashing mechanism to which the London defenders seemed to be subjected.

Whatever the extent of his investigation, the leader seemed satisfied. He tucked the Knight's helm in a pouch slung alongside his saddle, and directed his lizard men to retrieve the humans' weapons, snorting with very human laughter as they had difficulty with the Shining Knight's supernally sharp sword.

The Knight's gesture may, he thought, have earned them a degree of lenience, as they were not bound as the lizard men proceeded to march the humans farther north. They camped overnight during the long trek, and the humans were offered a spicy, dried meat that they could only presume was from the giant lizards, or else some variation thereof.

By the next afternoon, they had arrived at what appeared to be a settlement. The structures, though built of wood and woven branches, had a vaguely Arabic look to them, which matched the lizard men's loose clothing, and looked designed to be transient. They were led to a central building, larger than the others, and left inside to wait.

As the trio chatted quietly to themselves, comparing notes about their observations surrounding them, they were soon interrupted by another lizard man, who entered the room accompanied by an immense pair of armed guards. The guards stood by the entranceway, as the man raised an empty hand towards them. "I am Barasha," he said in hissingly accented English, "I lead the Harahashan, whose soldiers have allowed you to live despite your apparent alliance with the Londoners. Where hail you from?"

The Knight glanced at his companions, equally bemused by the use of understandable English. "My name is Cyril; my companions are Beryl and Ystina. We thank you for your generosity in allowing us our lives, as I can see the strength of the Harahashan warriors. We hail from ..." he waves his right hand vaguely, "the far land of Wales to the west, though some of our companions are from farther west than that, across the ocean."

Barasha looked positively gleeful. "The name Ystina is unknown to me, but not that of Cyril Sheldrake or Beryl Hutchinson." To their astounded faces, he laughed. "Don't flatter yourselves, there have been no legends of your campaigns which have survived the centuries. We just have more information than you might think." He nodded to the guards, who again drew aside the tarps at the door, and a pair of humans entered, clad in outfits similar to that of the Harahashan.

The Knight's mouth fell open in surprise. "Derek! Richard!"

"Well met, Cyril," Richard Plante laughed, as he and Derek Bradbourne greeted the Knight and the Squire with fond embraces, and bowed in greeting as he introduced them to the Shining Knight.

"We'd started to wonder whether 'Mark Tyme' was going to send anyone after us," Derek said. "Our patches were damaged in our first battle against the Scarlet Centurion's men, and ... "

The Knight waved a hand to interrupt. "The who?"

"Barasha told us you'd allied yourselves with the Londoners," Richard blinked. "I thought you knew ... "

"We saw only men in battle against ... those who didn't appear to be such," Ystina demurred. "It seems we all made an error of judgment."

"Are we not men?" Barasha glared at the armoured woman.

"I suppose it's a mistake we might have made, had our travels been different," Richard said. "As best our research has been able to establish, the Harahashan are not reptiles at all, but humans who have been forced to mutate in order to adapt to the harsh conditions of this world."

Squire furrowed her brow. "But the Londoners ... they look like we do ... "

"The radiation did not fall evenly," Derek said. "I think they are mainly emigrants to the area."

"Although much of the construction has been done with enslaved Harahashan," Barasha said with a scowl.

"So what can you tell us about this Scarlet Centurion character," the Knight enquired.

"Not much is known," Barasha said. "He arrived in our lands seven years ago, using machines none of our people had seen, and his army of pink-skinned slaves and soon enslaved Harahashan, to construct his giant city on the ruins of the old."

"We think he's probably from uptime or downtime," Richard said, "unless he's some sort of quisling for the Mole Men."

The Shining Knight hissed. "The Mole Men? The Tylwydd Têg? What do they have to do with all of this?"

"They're the ones who started World War Three in the first place," Derek replied.

"Wait ... what?" Squire looked back and forth between the two men, baffled. "I thought it was a South American despot named Rykos ... "

"That's what everybody thought at the time," Richard said, "and Rykos was no saint. But it was the Mole Men who sent a powerful energy-pulse up from their underground dwelling that triggered Rykos' missiles in the first place."

"They introduced those darkness-creating plants, the ki-moli, to make the surface world more accessible to them," Derek continued. "Fortunately, they had underestimated our resources. A small army of surviving metahumans beat them back ... but there was no way to undo the damage they had caused."

"We have a lot of work to do when we get back," the Knight murmured. He looked to his allies. "We didn't come here alone, though. The rest of our team as well as some others went to investigate London."

Barasha hissed. "Your team is in danger."

"He's right," Richard said. "A lot of his strongest warriors have been enslaved by the Centurion. We've done our best to aid the Harahashan in upgrading their weaponry, but ... "

"Weaponry ... are your own suits of armour and weapons still functional?"

Derek nodded. "We've avoided cannibalising them as long as possible. The Crusader and Lionheart are still at your service."

"You're saying we might need to stage a rescue," the Shining Knight said. "How to approach without being seen? Those great lizards the Harahashan ride into battle are not the most subtle of beasts."

"That is a problem your fellow downtimers have been inspired to solve for themselves," Barasha grinned.

* * *

 _The Chronic Argonauts:_

Scarlet Hawk and the Spider, each using specialised equipment, effortlessly scaled the wall surrounding the city, while their compatriots watched from below. The streets behind the walls was indeed recognisable to them, but presented a London as it might have been seen one and a quarter centuries before their own time.

Scarlet Hawk raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I expected to see. The Scarlet Centurion is some sort of antiques collector?"

"I would say it was a function of the limits of his technology, except the details are too precise," the Spider mused. "This is a clear reproduction of London circa ... 1880, I would guess."

"I suppose all the brainwashed slaves doing construction down there don't fit in with the period detail. Otherwise, what you say does make it sound like a fellow time traveler. Let's head back down and report."

Frankenstein scratched his head. "It sounds like a place in which I would be at home. Would my pallor allow me to pass as one of the lizard men, do you think?"

"Your pallor, certainly," Yashida said, "but I'd never met anyone taller than Kuno before ... and didn't think I ever would. I'm not quite sure what we ought to do about the two of you."

"It takes years of training to learn how to compress the spine and alter the posture to effect the disguise of being less than one's actual height," the Spider reflected, "but perhaps we can come up with something. The armour those soldiers are wearing; it's fairly bulky. If we stripped them down to just the outer shell, and clad our two large fellows in them, it might ameliorate some of the problem."

"That seems far-fetched," Ellis said dubiously, "But Kuno and ... er ... Frankenstein are too important as assets to leave behind. Unless anyone has any better ideas ... ?"

Thus it was that the Bowman set his snares under cover of night, and several of the city's guards fell to the tips of arrows equipped with sleeping gas capsules or hypnotising subsonic emitters. The Spider's and Jill Malden's deft fingers worked on dismantling the suits of armour and refashioning them to something which, at a surface glance, would act to properly disguise two of their teammates.

So attired, the eight visitors from the past explored the streets of London. Frankenstein alone could testify to the veracity of the duplication, although it was certainly cleaner than the London he knew, and the variances in building materials and techniques were evident. And the London of his era did not have chain gangs of human slaves and lizard men working on construction crews throughout the city. The language spoken on the streets was also barely recognisable as a deteriorated English, with dropped syllables and deleted prepositions, making the talk surrounding them just on the borderline of comprehensibility. The vehicles on the roads were curious things, internal combustion engines but in random styles which seemed part horse-drawn carriage, part automotive styles ranging over a course of decades.

"This place is horrible," Yashida whispered, "even the brutish U.S. military survivors we encountered had not developed a culture as awful as this. It's like a scene from some dystopian novel."

Their attention was drawn to a flickering light which filled the outside wall of one of the buildings, and which seemed to be emitted by a project on the roof of the building opposite. The bustle along the streets paused, and a palpable air of anticipation was felt in the crowd. A quick survey indicated this was not an isolated occurrence, but rather one taking place in public squares throughout at least the center of the city. A darkness formed in the flickering light and coalesced into the image of a man clad in varying shades of red, a helmet concealing his facial features, and loudspeakers announced the presence of the Scarlet Centurion.

"The Scarlet Centurion?" Scarlet Hawk sniffed. "I suppose he is the penny-ante fuehrer of this joint."

The image started to rant, in the same degraded language as the surrounding Londoners, though some of the Soldiers noted a slight difference in accent, though difficult to place. As he continued to rant, his face was replaced by images of hordes attacking the city, what appeared to be shots of razed farmlands, and wounded guardsmen. Interposed were a series of faces ... lizard men of various ages ... and the recognisable visages of Derek Bradbourne and Richard Plante ... each face slowly morphed as it remained on the screen into something goatlike and sinister. The crowd shouted their rage at the pictures, some going so far as to throw rocks or bottles at the walls on which they were projected.

"A dystopian novel is right," Bowman muttered, "we're right in time for the two-minute hate."

"More than that," the Spider said. "It may be an indication that the men we came to find are still alive ... or at the very least, that they've been here fairly recently."

The conversation was interrupted as a trio of armed guardsmen approached the gathering. The foremost of them waved his rifle in their direction. "Why n'goat? Why n'goat?" The man's other arm gestured towards the projection, which had by now ceased its narrative. He eyed Frankenstein and Kuno curiously.

"The goat? sacrificial goat? scapegoat?" Frankenstein scowled beneath his helmet, "I tire of this symbolism from tyrants, even in this degraded tongue."

The guardsman, visibly infuriated by the Soldier's response, swung the butt of his rifle around, catching the other one the jaw and knocking the faceplate off his helm. The man's eyes bulged as he saw the pale green visage within, and he and his compatriots backed away quickly. He pulled out what appeared to be a walkie-talkie from a side holster, and spoke into it quickly. "Eight Truders! Zards! Corner Weisinger Way & Meskin Court!"

Any further commentary was cut short by Scarlet Hawk's throwball, and the fleeing others were felled by Bowman's arrows. Ellis facepalmed. "So much for skulking and skullduggery." He scanned the surrounding streets, the onlookers curious or hostile. "Split up ... my team this way down sidestreets, you other four backtrack ... we'll try to reconnoiter with the Knight's team and report on what we found."

The three astronauts and their antiquitous companion began to duck and weave as the security vehicles arrived, sirens blazing. A shadow fell over the city streets as the two-woman glider, summoned by Jill Malden, began to hover into view. As the quartet struggled, a baton struck Yashida in the skull, stunning her. The glider paused, as if puzzled, then turned on autopilot and returned to the jet plane. Kuno roared his fury, massive fists striking down several of the guardians before he found himself falling prey to their greater numbers, Ellis and Malden falling alongside him.

Meanwhile the archer and the pilot, the monster and the master manipulator, plowed a dangerous path through London with arrow and throwball, steam gun and web gun. It was almost enough.

* * *

 _When The Earth Blacked Out:_

They awoke, disarmed and disheartened and enchained.

Frankenstein tested his strength unsuccessfully against the chains which held him. "I tire as well of my journeys to the future always ending with those who would bind me to their will," he said dourly. "I ... apologise if my speaking out of turn led to our capture."

Ellis shook his head, "It was my plan, my responsibility. We didn't know what we would find. We ought never have entered in force; it drew too much attention and virtually guaranteed our capture."

The Spider inclined his head in the slightest nod. The presence of Kuno, after their surreal encounter in Carcosa, had left him preoccupied, else he'd simply had gone his own way and infiltrated the city himself. Even then, had a stray shot not disabled his jet pack, he would have fled the final battle; he could easily escape now, but to what end? His pride forbade him from returning to the 'Mark Tyme' project alone and empty-handed, but there was no value to him in conquering a barren Earth such as this one. His internal reverie blocked out the surrounding conversation, but was interrupted by the arrival of a powerful-looking man, his features concealed behind a masklike helmet, his armour in shades of red and black emblazoned with an hourglass at its center. "So, my fellow downtimers have come to track me, after all that I've accomplished."

Scarlet Hawk's muscles tensed. Under his breath he whispered to Bowman, "I know that voice ... it's Nebogipfel ... it's the underworld scientist who stranded me in your decade ... but he looks completely different ... "

"The one who labeled himself the Scarlet Centurion, is it?" Frankenstein rumbled, "Accomplishments built on the backs of slaves are worth naught more than the hellfire which will inevitably consume all tyrants."

"I have sampled but the smallest section of the timestream, from 1862 and forward to 17901 AD, but even within that gap I have seen that slavery is a constant of the human condition. Having seen how the city of London had fallen, it befit me to see it rise again."

"Kuno is warrior, not slave, let me out and fight you, I will show you!"

"You collaborated with criminals back in 1940," Scarlet Hawk spat, "and it doesn't look to me like the company you're keeping is any better now."

"Nineteen forty? How would ... oh my, you wouldn't be one of those Blackhawks? The one who had disrupted my operation and then tagged along when I chose to withdraw from that era?"

"Ian Baker of the Blackhawks, at your service."

Jill Malden watches the exchange, fascinated. "So you two are ... eh ... arch-enemies of a sort, then?"

"Hardly that," Scarlet Centurion sneered. "I have projects scattered throughout the timeline now; Baker simply interfered with one of them, just as the eight of you seemed intent on doing so. I have collected a fair number of brainwashing techniques in my travels, and I look forward to using some of the ones developed for the more recalcitrant prisoners on ... eh?"

The lights in the room seemed to dim, as tendrils of black smoke seemed to seep in through the small open windows. Scarlet Centurion paced over to the window and glared out at the obliviating darkness. "That is not a natural fire ... that is the ki-moli ... I can't believe the lizard men would ... "

He was interrupted by a shearing sound of metal on metal, as the tip of a golden sword cleaved through the bolted wooden door to the room. It clattered to the floor and riding in above it was the Shining Knight, astride a giant mutated dalmation. "Not the lizard men alone. Surrender, your time has come."

Scarlet Centurion glared at Baker, and a shimmering light appeared in his right hand to be replaced by a futuristic firearm. He barely had time to aim it before Ystina's mount clamped its immense jaws on his arm. He howled in pain.

"By book or by sword," its rider said, and her sword sliced through the Scarlet Centurion's chest. Sparks flew out, and he fell to the ground lifelessly. She stared down at it. "Eh? Another clockwork man?"

"That just means the real Nebogipfel is still elsewhere in the timeline," Baker said. "Ystina, if you wouldn't mind?"

She smiles, and dismounted to slice through the door of the cell and, more carefully, the heavy irons holding them captive.

"I take it that means you contacted the lizard men," Bowman said, "and all of you are all right?"

"Quite so. They are valuable allies and great warriors." She smiled. "Still, we have a city to retake, and your strengths are needed."

"Kuno was born for such battles," he grinned widely, "lead on, golden warrior."

The eight were led from gaol to witness their five armoured comrades astride others of the immense dogs, leading an army of Harahashan who poured in through the city gates. Under the leadership of Barasha and the knights, they focused their attentions on freeing their captive brethren and rounding up the city's guardsmen. The struggle for London was hard-fought and many Harahashan and guardsmen lost their lives before the invaders' final victory. Boyd Ellis too was struck down by crossfire, as he sought to protect some of the noncombatant citizenry.

The celebration of the victors was marred by Jill Malden's sobs. "I can't believe we survived thousands of years ... so many things here ... just to lose him like this ... "

"He was great warrior. Kuno be honored to light his pyre, it will burn until end of time." Malden nodded numbly.

"I am sorry for your loss," the Knight said helplessly. "I know you had originally planned to remain here, but if you now want to reconsider ..."

Yashida shook her head. "This is where we belong, now."

"I understand," the Knight said, "and empathise. In fact, my mounted companions and I have agreed to stay here for a while, to help rebuild London."

"What?" Bowman looked at him, astounded, and then at the Shining Knight, Squire, Crusader and Lionheart as they nodded their assent. "We came here to do a rescue operation, and now we will not only be going back empty-handed, but half our number will be joining them in exile?"

"We won't be here forever, Archer," Squire smiled. "We're all equipped with functioning magic patches, now. Just ... a couple of months. We just disposed of the only leadership most of these people have ever known, and that Nebogipfel-bot seemed to be the person running things. Barasha is a good tribal leader but he has never run a city before. They're going to need some modern-day ... um ... historical perspective just to get on their feet."

"Contact the Hood or the Bat Squad if you find yourself short on manpower until we return," the Knight said.

"We will make do," the Spider said. "Well met, Kuno, perhaps we will run into each other again ... in time."

"I will miss you, dear monster," Ystina said to Frankenstein with a smile, "be well, and guard the Isles in our name."

"I will," he replied, and the remaining four Soldiers vanished in a blinding flash of light, once more returning home.

* * *

NOTES:

When I went looking for 41st century events, a cursory skim of the Earth-4 timeline led me to infer the _Doomsday +1_ series took place near the 41st century rather than the late 20th. By the time I realised my mistake, I had the episode plotted and didn't feel inclined to swap everything over to Kamandi's timeline, so just did a work-around. It's not as if _Doomsday +1_ is canon to DC anyway, so not much harm is done, although in fact the series would have fit in with the OMAC/Atomic Knights/Hercules Unbound timeline extremely well with only minor tampering.

The two-woman glider that Jill and Ikei use, never actually appeared in the comic to the best of my knowledge, but was featured in the classic Neal Adams poster of the company.


End file.
